New Kid
by Simon920
Summary: Fourteen year old Brian is the new kid in school. This is a back story which follows his first true love and romance. This story was inspired by Paul Plesko's terrific fanfic "Prometheus Bound" and is posted with his permission. Thank you, Paul.


Title: New Kid #1

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

**Chapter One**

"Ligouri?"

"Here."

"Kelly?"

"Here."

"Kinney?"

"Here."

"You're new, right? Transfer from McKeesport?" The young man looked bored but the teacher saw the defiance in his face. This one would be a troublemaker, that was obvious right now.

"Yes." The homeroom teacher nodded and went on.

"Korinda?"

"Here."

It was the first day of school, seven forty-five AM, September 5th, 1986 and they were in the homeroom period before the start of the real classes. It was a beautiful day outside, still summer, really, and half of the kids were looking out o the windows, the other half were trying to get their eyes open. Typical stuff, really. There were forms being handed out asking about emergency numbers, student health insurance, sports team tryouts, various school clubs announcements and any number of other tedious first day at school pains in the ass. There was barely time to hand everything out before the bell rang.

George Hanson, the Biology teacher who had this particular homeroom glanced at the new kid as he walked out of the room to his first class. He was tall for his age and good looking. He had an attitude about him, though. He looked like one of those kids who was probably smarter than most of the teachers and who wouldn't take any crap—though he'd probably throw his share of it if he could get away with it.

He'd noticed that a couple of the girls in the room had been looking at the boy, too, though he was either completely ignoring it or really didn't notice them.

He didn't seem shy—maybe he was just arrogant. A handsome kid like that would get a lot of looks from the girls in school.

The bell rang again, pulling his attention back to the kids who had filed in for AP Biology. He forgot about the new kid for now.

The new boy, Brian, found his first class, US History, taking a seat by the window about half way back. He liked sitting by the window. Teachers seems to assume that he just wanted to look outside—and he did—but it wasn't just to daydream. He liked to look out to watch the trees and the cars, even the weather. It was one of what he privately called his small escapes.

He would imagine that he could climb the trees or maybe drive away in the passing cars. Sometimes he would dream up entire stories about being in a ship at sea if it was raining or maybe skiing down a mountain trail if it was winter.

He would do almost anything to get away from reality and part of his game was that no one could know that he even played it.

He had hidden behind a mask since he had first understood that his family was different than most families. The mask hid almost everything. It hid the embarrassment of his parents and the shame he felt in himself. It camouflaged the hurt and the fear and it even covered up the pain from both the tongue-lashings and the beatings themselves.

He had somehow become convinced that if no one knew what it was like at his house then it somehow wasn't as bad. If no one knew it could be denied. If no one knew then it wasn't real. Because of this, he chose to have no friends. The other kids, both at school and in the old neighborhood and now in the new one thought he was arrogant. In fact, he was scared to death.

"Mr. Kinney, are you with us this morning?" The teacher was one of those young tight as a virgin bitches who always looked constipated.

Not bothering to verbalize an answer, he turned to face her, waiting for her to continue. "I was saying that there seems to be have been a mistake. You're supposed to be in AP, not the regular class. You should be across the hall with Mr. Hoke."

Brian glanced down at his class schedule card. "It says that I should be in room 222."

"I know what it says. It's a mistake, I just told you that. You're supposed to be across the hall."

"Good." He stood up, picking up his backpack. He hadn't bothered to open it yet; he was at least a full head taller than she was. Brushing past her, he left, not noticing the small dark boy who had been sitting behind him staring at him.

A couple of hours later Brian had gotten his food and was surveying the cafeteria for a place to sit when the same small boy shyly came up beside him, indicating a table. "Want to sit here?"

"Sure, thanks."

"I'm Michael Novatny."

"Brian Kinney."

"…I saw you in History this morning, before you moved over to AP. You're new here, aren't you?"

Brian took a bite of apple. Michael noticed that all he had for lunch was a carton of milk and that piece of fruit. "Yeah, my father got a new job a couple of months ago. We moved here from McKeesport."

"I've always lived here." There was a pause while they both ate. "You must be smart to be in AP. I could never get in."

"Sure you could. I could help you if you want." Brian downed the milk in one gulp.

"You play any sports?"

"Soccer and track. I run middle distances."

"I could never do that."

Brian gave him a look. "That's the second time you said that. You could if you tried."

A couple of boys Brian vaguely remembered from AP English were standing by the end of their table. "Hey, Kinney, don't eat with that faggot loser. Come over with us."

"Fuck off." He didn't even look up.

"What the Hell did you say?" The larger of the two seemed to be taking offense at the attitude. Brian ignored him, eating his apple. He felt a hand on his shoulder, exhaled while slightly shaking his head at the stupidity of what was happening. He looked up at the two boys, noticing that the surrounding tables had become quiet as the kids saw the confrontation in the making.

The smaller of the two new comers stepped in. "Johnnie, cut him some slack, he's new, he doesn't know."

Johnnie, seemingly not wanting trouble at the moment nodded at his friend. "OK, Kinney. I'll let it go this time because it's your first day and you don't know better yet. I heard that you play soccer, so I'll see you at the sign up later." Nodding, he sauntered away, the rest of the lunchroom returned to normal.

Brian turned back to Michael. "Who was that asshole?"

"Glen Tippy. One of the wheels around here. He's honor roll and probably the best athlete in the class. And the girls all hang all over him."

"He's OK looking, nice bod."

Michael almost did a double take at the comment, staring at Brian. Brian noticed the look he was getting. "Yeah, I'm gay—aren't you?" His voice was pitched so that it wouldn't carry.

Speechless for a moment, Michael just nodded, then, "How did you know?"

A shrug. "Gaydar." The bell rang. The twenty-minute lunch period was over. "Later." Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Brian went off in search of AP Biology and his homeroom teacher, George Hanson.

At two thirty-six the school day ended and Brian joined the crowd of about fifty young men in the gym for the soccer team, he was relaxed—or pretending to be when his turn at the front of the line came. The coach was also the school's principal. Don Wilkins.

"You ever play soccer before, Brian?" The kid had the build for it; he had potential even at first glance.

"I was put on the Varsity at my old school last spring."

"You were in eight grade last spring, you couldn't have made the squad then, son."

He looked angry at the implication that he was either lying or mistaken. "I said that I was named to the Varsity squad last spring. That's when they had the tryouts at my old school. I tried out for the fall team and made the first string."

Wilkins gave him a steady look. This one had enough attitude to keep him off the squad, might be a bad influence if it wasn't taken in hand. "Well, you'll get a chance to show us what you can do in a few minutes. Take a seat."

Two hours later Brian had his second Varsity posting while still just a freshman. The coach thought himself probably lucky to have the obviously talented boy and equally worried about what problems he might have just let himself in for. He'd keep a tight rein on the kid, for both their sakes.

Brian went to his main locker to get the books he needed for the night's homework. The little kid, Mike Novatny was hanging around looking like he had been waiting.

"Brian? I saw you make the team—that's so cool!"

"It's alright." He was filling his pack.

"Yeah, but Varsity as a freshman—almost no one does that. You were so great out there. All the other guys were watching you and everything."

"Most of them suck, a few are adequate."

That seemed to take the wind out of Mike's sails for a couple of seconds before he found his voice again. "…You want to get a milkshake or something? I know this really great place and since you're new I thought that you might not have found it yet."

The last thing Brian wanted was a shake—all that fat and sugar? No way in Hell, but he could get a glass of water or something and the guy was making an overture for friendship. Well, maybe this once. He could always plead an excuse and leave. "…OK, but I can't stay too long."

Michael's face lit up—finally, if he didn't screw it up he might have a friend, a gay friend—and one like Brian Kinney.

Damn.

They walked to the diner, Brian hesitating before he would go in. The area, Liberty Avenue was notorious as a gay ghetto, the rainbow flags were hung out defiantly and the men, along with a few women, walking down the street as couples seemed to flaunt themselves to whoever might want to watch.

He wasn't ready to be here and he knew that if he ran now he probably wouldn't come back for a long time.

Shit. He wasn't just some scared little faggot. He wasn't.

Well, even if he was, he wasn't about to admit it.

He lifted his chin just a shade and followed Mike through the door.

"About fucking time you got here—what the Hell took you so long?" A larger than life woman in a red wig and dressed in every color Brian had ever heard of came over to where they had taken seats at the counter. He automatically started to give the excuse/answer he always had ready in case he was ever questioned—that was something he had learned living with Jack and Joan—always be prepared.

"Brian, why didn't you take out the garbage?" I was just about to." "Brian, how did your shirt get wet?" "I was caught in the rain on the way home." Brian, is your homework done?" "Yes."

"Hi Mom, This is Brian Kinney. I was watching him try out for the soccer team. He made Varsity and he's a freshman like me!"

She gave him a smile around her gum. "Congratulations, sweetie. That calls for a celebration! Double chocolate shake with extra whipped cream—sound good?"

He would never, in his entire life eat something like that. As God was his witness, he wouldn't. Fuck no, not him.

"I'd like water, please."

"Water? What the fuck kind of a celebration is that?"

"Mom, leave him along, please?"

She gave Brian a sharp look. He was used to being inspected, so he didn't bat an eye and Debbie wondered what the hell had happened to this kid to make him seem at least ten years older than he really was. She softened he approach. "I'll be off in half an hour, would you like to have dinner with us, Brian?"

"Thank you, but my mother expects me home for dinner." And if he weren't there, Jack would beat the crap out of him.

She backed down, smiled at him. It was a kind smile. "Another time, sweetie."

She handed Brian his glass of water and Michael the glass of coke he always ordered.

"Mom? Brian is gay, too."

He stared at the clueless elf next to him in horror, about to bolt out the door. Debbie restrained him with a hand on his arm on top of the counter and spoke to him directly and quietly.

"Brian. Sweetie. It's OK, just about everyone in here is gay. Michael is and so is my brother. It's not a problem here."

He looked her straight in the eyes, despite the ridiculous wig and the awful clothes; he saw the kindness of the woman and made an almost conscious decision to accept what she said at face value.

It wouldn't be a problem here.

She went on in the same calm voice. "And no one will tell anyone about you if you don't want them to." She looked at her son. "Right, Michael?"

Even he seemed to understand that this was where either he made a friend or lost one. "Right. No one has to know unless you tell them yourself."

Brian somehow realized that he could trust these two. They wouldn't try to hurt him and they wouldn't betray him. They were—safe.

It was a revelation.

He nodded. "Alright." Glancing up at the Coca-cola clock behind the counter, he said, almost reluctantly, "I have to get home." He hesitated, looking at Debbie. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Novatny."

"Likewise, Brian."

He walked out, leaving Michael and his mother. "You just met him today, sweetie?"

"He's from McKeesport. He said his father got a new job. He's in AP everything AND he made Varsity."

"He's a beauty, too, kiddo. You kinda like him, don'tcha?"

Michael just looked down at the countertop. "He wouldn't want someone like me."

Debbie lifted his chin with her fingers. "Maybe he would, maybe not, but he needs friends and I think that boy has some problems that he hasn't let you in on yet. You watch your step with him, you hear me?"

No answer.

"Michael, I mean it. I don't want you in the middle of something we don't know about yet."

TBC

8/3/03

Title: New Kid #2

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter 2 

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Brian's father was sitting on the couch, the local news ignored on the TV.

Head down, not wanting an argument, the boy mumbled "I tried out for the Soccer team after school. It took a couple of hours."

Not listening, Jack drained the last of what was left in the Iron City can. It sucked, but it was the cheapest beer that could be had and with the amount they went through, that mattered.

"I made the Varsity." He looked almost hopefully at his father, knowing he wasn't listening and didn't care. "I was the only freshman who did."

No reaction.

Brian climbed up to his room. It didn't matter. It was fine. He pulled off his shirt; it was sweaty and smelled after the day and pulled on last year's gym shorts.

He pulled out the Math book. He liked math, the order and the surety of the formulas and the numbers. Two plus two always equaled four. He liked that. It served as a sort of counterpoint to a lot of other things for him.

He thumbed through the Trig book, it looked like it would be interesting and didn't look too hard. It would be fine; he shouldn't have any trouble with it.

The thing with being in all AP classes was that the teachers seemed to think that just because you were smart you didn't mind doing the dumbass assignments they gave you.

Yeah, right.

It was the same shit. 'Do problems three through seventeen.' SSDD, that's all it was and with the advanced class they started right in. None of that taking a few days to learn the lay of the land stuff the regular classes had. Nope.

It would be fine. It didn't matter.

He knocked off the math homework in about twenty minutes and reached for his History book, AP World History 1. The Greeks again, the Romans, the Ottoman Empire and all that shit. Christ, like he hadn't done this already in sixth grade. Whatever. It would be fine. He'd ace this one, too. The ten pages they were assigned were simple.

He started to wonder if they would be having dinner tonight. It was almost seven thirty and they usually ate around six or so. Well, no big deal. He hadn't seen his mother since he got home and so that usually meant that she was either in the kitchen with a bottle of wine, thinking about how much her life sucked and not moving or she was a couple of stages past that and had passed out downstairs in the master bedroom.

Getting up, he made his way down to the dark kitchen—OK, no home cooked meal tonight, obviously—and looked around to see what he could scrounge up. He was heating a can of tomato soup when he saw his father in the doorway.

"Sonnyboy, you said you made some team?" He was at the belligerent stage of his drunk and Brian was the only one around to catch the brunt this time. Shit. "Why the fuck don't you get a job after school and start paying for some of the Goddamned food you eat around here. Fucking money doesn't grow on trees."

There was no point in answering. He kept his face down. Like an animal, he knew better than to make eye contact.

"I asked you a question, you little shit."

"…I made the Varsity Soccer team." He kept his eyes on the saucepan in front of him. "Dad? I was the only freshman who did."

The simple comment was what sent Jack over the edge this time. "Arrogant little son of a bitch." Without warning he smacked Brian across the cheek, hard, causing the boy's hand to jerk and hit the handle of the pan, flipping the hot liquid over onto his bare chest and legs.

"Christ. Clean up this mess." Jack turned and stalked out of the room.

Stunned, Brian just stood there for a minute.

Then the pain started, screaming from his legs and his stomach and his arm where it had splashed when his hand had jerked. He needed help, badly and soon.

In the back of his mind he thought that he was lucky the soup hadn't boiled, that his father hadn't walked in two minutes later.

His mother was passed out, Jack would be in a couple of minutes and Claire probably wasn't home.

Jesus it hurt.

He couldn't call the police, not yet. They'd only lived here a couple pf weeks; they couldn't start down that road already. They didn't know any neighbors to ask. He couldn't just knock on doors.

That kid at school—Michael.

God, it hurt.

His mother might help. It wasn't that far, he could get there on foot.

Barefoot, he walked the three blocks to the Novatny's front door. The lights were on inside. He knocked.

An older man, blondish and handsome, answered. "Yes?"

"Is Mrs. Novatny here?" He hoped he had the right house. He thought it was, but he wasn't sure at this point.

"Sis? Quick."

"What is it?" She came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Jesus. Vic, help me." The man picked Brian up in his arms, carrying him to the worn couch, gently putting him down. Michael's mother returned from the kitchen with ice and towels to wrap it in.

Brian winced when the cold touched him, the rough feel of the cheap terry hurting, but the cool helping slightly where he felt like he was burning up. He knew that he was out of it and he sort of came to—embarrassed that he was asking for help from strangers. In the background he was vaguely aware that the boy he'd met that day—Michael?—was asking what was going on.

The woman lay him down on the sofa, making it easier for the ice to stay in place helping the pain and minimizing the blistering that was already starting to form down the tanned skin. "Brian, sweetie, can you tell me what happened? Vic, get some aspirin."

He was starting to shake, whether from shock or from the ice, he didn't know. "I was making soup. I knocked the pan off the stove."

"He needs a doctor, Deb."

"I know. Bring the car around, it'll be faster than an ambulance."

"No. I'll be alright."

"Brian, honey, you're burned, we have to get you help."

The local ER's all knew him, knew his family's record. There was no way he could go to one. The cops would be called and then he'd be in really deep shit at home.

"No, it's OK. It hardly hurts at all now. Really."

Mrs. Novatny and the man he took to be her brother exchanged a look. They weren't buying it. The man—Vic?—asked, "Where are your parents, son?"

"Not home. That's why I came here. We just moved in around here and we don't know anyone yet, then I remembered you and I thought that—you know."

The kid thought fast. Either he was smart or he'd a lot of practice lying. Or both. There were some scars on the boy, and not the usual scraped knees and elbows you'd expect. He looked like he had some scars from lash marks on his back and at least one of his ribs was at a slightly odd angle from where it should be.

The kid's demeanor was wrong, too. He was too ready with an explanation, too practiced in his excuses why his parents couldn't be called. Sure, maybe he wasn't supposed to be using the stove or something like that, but he seemed pretty self reliant, pretty confident, he would be fine doing something as simple as heating up an easy dinner.

Shit.

This was a no brainer. Poor Michael, all he'd wanted was a friend. Poor Deb—they always seemed to attract the strays. This one was going to be a problem if he stayed around. Abused kids weren't easy to deal with.

Well, this explained why he has seemed reserved and distant this afternoon. Now the question was what to do about it.

"Why don't you stay here for a while? Vic? Maybe you could get him a cup of tea or something."

She turned her attention to Brian, starting to hurt a little less. The ice seemed to be helping. He'd have some good blisters and they'd hurt, but with any luck, he'd be alright on his own. She'd keep an eye on him tonight and make sure that he stayed quiet and got some rest. If there was a problem she'd take him to the hospital, no matter what he said.

"Brian, honey, I think it would be easier of you stayed here tonight, alright? That way you won't have to be moving around too much." The look on his face was a frightening mixture of hope and fear. What the fuck had happened to the kid to make him look like that?

He was thinking, weighing his options, such as they were. Jack and Joanie were passed out by now and Claire didn't give a crap.

"Thank you. I'm sorry that I'm being such a problem. I just didn't know where else I could go since we're new." His eyes were getting heavy, partly through exhaustion, probably and partly through the shock and pain of what he'd just been through.

He was drifting off.

Deb saw that his eye would be black by morning, his cheek was swollen.

Poor kid.

Michael had been hanging back, frightened. She gestured him into the kitchen. "What do you know about this boy, Michael?" Her voice was low so Brian might be able to sleep.

He shrugged. "Not much. I just met him today. We had lunch together and he stood up for me when some of the jerks told him he shouldn't hang around with me. He's really smart and he's a good soccer player. That's about it." He looked at his uncle, just joined them. "He told me he's gay."

"Nothing about his family?"

"Not really, no." Michael had his whipped puppy look on. "I like him, Mom. I think we'd be good friends. We can help him, right?"

"We'll try, honey. You go do your homework, take a shower, OK? Your Uncle Vic and I have to talk." He nodded, going upstairs, but stopping in the living room first to make sure Brian was sleeping alright. Deb saw the look on his face when he checked on the other boy.

They had trouble whether they wanted it or not.

"You know he's an abused kid, Sis. Are you going to call the police?"

"He seems afraid of that. Maybe he's been threatened if someone finds out."

"…Probably. You could call the school. They have guidance counselors who are trained to deal with this sort of thing."

She gave him a look. "They're fucking idiots. They won't do shit."

He agreed. He knew that. "So what are you going to do? Adopt him?"

She sighed, shrugged, "Michael likes him and he seemed to like Michael this afternoon."

"You mean 'they like each other' or 'they LIKE each other'?"

"I dunno, it's too soon to tell, but Michael needs a friend and he seems to have picked this one."

"Christ—they just always find you."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, I have a feeling this one will turn out OK."

"This one is a beauty, anyway." He shook his head at her. "I'll be back later, I'm meeting Lou at Babylon."

"Be careful." He kissed her cheek as he left.

On the couch Brian heard what they had said about him. He did like Mikey, not to fuck or anything, but he liked him as a friend. He liked his mother, too and the man—his uncle seemed like a decent sort. Of course, when the found out that what they suspected was just the tip of the fucking iceberg they'd drop him like a damn hot potato, but it might be OK here for a while.

They seemed like nice people. He really didn't want to hurt them and pulling them into the Kinney Krap, as he had nicknamed it, would be wrong.

He liked that they had called him a beauty.

He'd just spend the night here, get a good sleep and leave in time to pick up his books and shit for school in the morning. The burns were sore, but he'd had worse and he knew that these would heal. He'd take it easy in school and usually the first day of practice was light, so he'd be able to handle it.

He'd just take this one step at a time.

TBC

8/4/03

Title: New Kid #3

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

**Chapter 3**

Michael didn't see Brian until lunch the next day and he was almost frantic by the time he caught sight of him coming out of the food line. His eye was black and he was moving sort of stiffly, but if you didn't know better, you'd wouldn't think that much of it.

"Brian. Over here."

He sat down, container of milk and apple on his tray.

"You don't eat much, do you?" Brian just shrugged. "…Are you OK? You were gone this morning and Mom was kind of worried about you." So was he, truth be known. Michael's mother had actually told him that if Brian had felt well enough to leave early, then he was probably just fine.

"I'm alright, I had to get clothes and my shit for school, that's all." He downed the milk. "…I'm sorry about last night. It won't happen again."

"You feel OK? Mom and Uncle Vic were really worried."

"I'm better today. The ice helped; there were almost no blisters. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, if it does happen again or anything, you can come back."

Saying nothing to that, Brian just gave a brief nod. "Thanks."

An older boy joined them, sitting at the end of the table, next to Brian. He was vaguely familiar. "Kinney? So you're the freshman who made the squad. You were fucking good out there yesterday, man, I was watching you. Damn good."

Shit, right. That's who it was, Keith White, the captain of the soccer team, all-state, hunk extraordinaire, a body to kill for and green eyes that rivaled the grass. Brian got hard just looking at him.

Damn, he was almost tongue tied, like a girl for God's sake. C'mon, be cool.

"Thanks, Keith. You're pretty good yourself." Say something, Damnit, say something. "I was sort of surprised that they put me on Varsity, I expected to be JV for a year."

"Fuck me, are you kidding? You're better than I was when I was a freshman. By the time you're a junior, you should be all state yourself."

"…Thanks, Keith."

"Hey, I'll catch you at practice, OK?"

Brian nodded, "You bet." Keith got up, moving to join his friends up at the senior tables in the front of the room.

"Brian? You know Keith White?"

He'd forgotten about Mikey. Shit. "Yeah, he's team captain. I saw him yesterday."

"He's so hot." He noticed that Mikey looked sad and wondered if he was jealous.

Brian didn't say anything, just took his apple and stood up. "I have to get a book. Later." He went to the boy's locker room, figuring that it would probably be empty this time of day. He was lucky, he was right.

Letting himself in, he went to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls. Within five minutes he had quickly jerked himself off. Pulling up his jeans, he was relieved enough so that he could go to class without embarrassing himself as he heard the bell ringing.

After school he was changing for practice when Keith sauntered over to him, leaning against the bank of lockers. "I didn't want to ask you in front of that kid at lunch, but what happened to your face? Someone hit you?"

Normally Brian would have just told someone who asked him something like that to fuck off, but he couldn't with Keith looking like he actually cared just a foot away from him.

He sort of gave a half shrug.

"Shit—was it one of the fag hating assholes?" He whispered so that just he and Brian could hear what he said. Brian was stunned, just staring at the older boy.

"What?"

"Was it?" Keith was staring at him, through him, wanting an answer. "I'll take care of it—who did it?"

He whispered back, "No, no, it wasn't—it was my father." Jesus. He didn't believe he'd said that. He'd never told anyone. Never.

Shit. Fuck.

Brian stumbled on, awkward, trying to reverse what he'd just said. "I mean, I didn't mean it was—it wasn't him, it –I just tripped. It's nothing. I'll be fine."

Keith was staring. "Your father?" He looked at the floor. "Ah, shit. Brian…"

"What did you mean 'fag hating'? Why did you say that?"

They were still whispering. "I'm one, too. I know what it's like, man, I'll look out for you, OK?" Wilkins, the coach was blowing his whistle, calling them out to the field. They moved automatically. "Brian? Count on it. You're my little brother now. I'm gonna watch out for you."

"Come on, gentlemen, today, if you don't mind."

They joined the rest of the team members on the field, starting with ten easy laps, Brian staying behind like a good freshman should—until they came up to the last two laps. He started moving up through the pack, easily passing one runner after another, passing on the outside and barely breathing hard. With three quarters of a lap to go he had pulled equal with the front-runners, Keith still in the lead.

He spared him a glance when Brian moved abreast and the two of them loped past the finish line side by side, finally sprawling on the infield grass about a yard from one another.

"Usually no one else can keep up with me. You really are better than I was as a freshman." He didn't seem angry, he looked somehow pleased. "I think you're going to give me a run for my money here, Bri."

Brian breathed out a smiled. No one had ever called him that before, no one had ever thought to give him a nickname, no one had ever cared enough to bother. "I was afraid that you'd be mad."

"Fuck, no." The others were finishing the laps, too, the coach calling them to gather for whatever was next. Keith started to get up, pausing. "You want to catch a movie or something with me this weekend?"

"…Really?"

"No, I'm kidding." He watched the youngster's face fall. "Well, yeah, I mean it. Saturday OK?"

"Saturday's fine."

"What?"

"You sure you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask you if I didn't mean it, you twat", but he smiled to take the sting out of the words. Shit. He had a date.

Goddamn.

He noticed Mikey in the stands as he jogged over to the rest of the team, tossing him a small wave. The small boy didn't look too pleased. Well, he'd have to just get over it. They could be friends, sure, no problem, but—shit, Keith was fucking hot.

After the practice Mikey was waiting by his locker again. "I was hoping that you'd come by here after practice, I thought that we could maybe go to that diner your Mom works at—I'd like to thank her about, you know—last night."

Mikey's eyes lit up. "That would be great, she'd appreciate that, she really would."

As they were walking the half-mile to Liberty Avenue Michael tried to pump Brian about what he had seen between him and Keith down on the track that afternoon.

"He's a nice guy, that's all, he's sort of taking me under his wing because I'm new on the team and he's the captain. It's no big deal."

"But we can still be friends, right?" He looked worried that Brian would laugh at him.

"It's fine. Yeah." They walked for another block, stopping right in front of the diner's windows. "Hey, Mikey? Thanks."

The answering smile was wide but all he did was duck his head a little, nodding.

The encounter with Mikey's mother was short and left Brian feeling oddly pleased. She had walked over to them when the boys had walked in, taken a long look at Brian's face, gently put her hand on his good cheek and told him that he could always come to their house, no matter what time it was. If no one was home, the key was under the planter on the back step.

Anytime at all. If he couldn't come under his own power, all he had to do was call and they'd come get him. And that was a promise.

There was a quick sting of tears in Brian's eyes, which he immediately pushed back, but he thanked her.

She was one of the only people in his life who was willing to go out of their way for him and he could barely stop himself from wondering if there was some ulterior motive, but could find nothing that she would stand to gain by being kind to him. Incredible.

Jesus. It was almost worth the black eye.

Suddenly shy, he made an excuse about being expected home and left quickly, Debbie understanding and making Michael stay in the dinner so Brian could sort it out without distraction.

The rest of the week was uneventful. His classes for the year were fine; a couple of them were even interesting. They were all easy for him; he'd probably ace them. Brian saw Keith passing in the hallways between fourth and fifth periods and they would nod or smile to one another, but no more. He began looking forward to seeing the older boy then, looking at it as a bright spot in his day. He also looked to the soccer practices as the best part of the entire day, knowing that he and Keith would be able to be together and talk to one another without anyone being suspicious.

The other team members quickly understood that Brian, though still a freshman, was easily among the best players on the squad, despite being the youngest. The fact that he was admired and encouraged instead of being a source of jealousy was a testament to Keith's abilities as the team captain. It was his attitude that diffused any potential problems before they could build to a head. It was quickly apparent that not only were Brian and Keith the two leading players on the team, but that Brian would probably be groomed as captain in due course—baring injury or something unexpected happening.

The two young men were careful to never cross any lines of propriety, never touched one another, never had any suggestive conversations. They were discrete and no one suspected that not only were they both gay, but that they were as strongly attracted to each other as they were.

Late Friday afternoon, the practice ended and the thirty or so members of the Varsity team were changing back to their street clothes to go scatter when someone suggested pizza over at the Bradford's house. Tom's parents never minded and it was Friday and they were going to win the damn state championship again this year, so why the Hell not?

Brian, the lone freshman was at the far end of the room at his own locker, away from the older boys and didn't hear. He was included, of course, he was welcome. They wanted him there, he simply didn't hear. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he left unnoticed through the back door. The clouds were getting dark and the air had that heavy feeling that a thunderstorm would be arriving any time now. He got home before it broke, but barely.

About nine that night he was reading up in his room. It was pouring out. Joanie was at church saying a station of the cross for someone or other, Claire was Christ knew where and Jack was passed out in front of the TV when he heard the doorbell.

"Yes?…Keith."

"Bri. I've been sent to get you—why the fuck aren't you over at Tom's?"

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Party for the soccer team, c'mon, get your shoes."

"Yeah, but I…"

"Cut the crap, get your shoes and get your ass in the car. You're keeping me waiting."

Two minutes later they were closing the doors of Keith's car. It was the first time Brian had ever been in a Mercedes, let along a convertible even if the top was up because of the rain still pounding down. He tried for cool.

"Nice car."

"Yeah, not bad—birthday present when I turned seventeen."

There was a pause, Brian feeling the tension between them but too inexperienced to know what to do about it. He waited for Keith to start the engine, but he seemed like he was trying to build up to something.

"…I like you Bri. I know you're a freshman and all, but you're smart and you're good on the team and you're, you're …" He ran out of words.

"I'm gay?" He had never said the words out loud before, they were quiet.

"Yeah." Keith leaned over towards Brian, catching his jaw lightly with his hand and turned his face so that he could just brush Brian's mouth with his own. They pulled a couple of inches apart, Brian breathing heavily and staring in some shock at the older boy. "Bri? Are you mad? I'm not trying to push you if you're not ready for anything."

Brian just shook his head slightly then leaned across the six inches separating them for another kiss, this time firmer and though inexperienced, completely willing.

Keith brushed the tip of his tongue across Brian's lips, hearing the gasp and slipping just the slightest bit inside the youngster's mouth. He could feel the hitch in his breathing as their tongues touched.

He pulled back, searching Brian's face. His eyes were huge, his breathing deep and even in the dark car he could see the bulge in his jeans.

"I think we should get you to the party before I compromise your virtue."

Shy, Brian gave a small laugh. "…Do you still want to go to the movies tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I would."

Screwing up all his nerve he asked, "You mean like a date?"

"Like a real date, you twat. Now we need to make an appearance at Tom's."

He started the car, riding in silence for a few blocks.

"Keith? Does anyone know?"

"That I'm gay?"

"Yeah."

"…You do."

TBC

8/6/03

Title: New Kid #4

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Four 

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, Sonnyboy?"

"I'm going to a movie."

"Yeah? I don't remember you asking me."

"…You weren't home." He paused. Shit. "It's just some of the guys from the soccer team. It's no big deal." He started out the door but Jack caught his arm, spinning him around.

"I didn't say you could go anywhere. Now you get your bony ass back downstairs and clean the basement like I told you to."

"I said I'd do it tomorrow."

"You'll do it when I fucking tell you."

Brian had tried to face down his father before, but he'd never really been able to. Jack was bigger and taller and stronger—and scarier. Looking at the man, smelling the whiskey on his breath, he knew that this was some kind of a breaking point.

He'd had enough and he wanted to go out.

"I'll clean the basement tomorrow."

More quickly than Brian could react, Jack's fist caught him just off side of his mouth. He could feel his lips mash against his teeth and tasted the blood but didn't fight back. He just stood there, waiting to see what his father would do next.

He, too, seemed to be waiting for Brian to go to his room or to the cellar or to maybe simply cry, but they just stood looking and sizing each other up.

After several long moments Brian simply turned and walked out the front door to the car waiting for him at the curb. With nay luck, Jack would be passed out when he got back and with even more luck, he'd forget by morning.

He opened the passenger door, sliding into the leather seat. He was facing the house while he tried to wipe the blood he could feel on his mouth, hoping that Keith wouldn't notice—he did.

His hand gently on Brian's chin, he pulled him around so he could see. "Christ…Bri." It was softly spoken; almost a sigh and it broke Brian's heart.

"I'm sorry. You don't need this shit, Keith. I'll see you at practice on Monday…it's OK." He started to get out but the other boy stopped him.

"Why did he do it this time?"

A shrug.

Keith took charge. "OK, we're going to my house and get you cleaned up, then we're going out to get some dinner and then we're going to the fucking movie like we planned." He started the car. Keith just sat. It didn't matter, he wasn't badly hurt, and he'd been hurt enough to know and this was nothing. He wasn't really hungry, though.

"Is this because you're going out with me?"

"…No. He doesn't know. He thinks I'm just going out with some teammates."

They drove the two miles in silence, the houses becoming larger, the lawn bigger and better tended than the neighborhood where Brian lived. The stopped in front of a modern wood and glass home, professionally lit and obviously expensive. Brian tried not to stare.

They walked in the front door, a woman, presumably Keith's mother calling, "Honey, is that you? I thought you were seeing a movie."

"I forgot something." He led Brian to the stairs. "C'mon, we'll see how bad it is."

Keith's room was about the size of a three car garage and was loaded with the newest and best of everything that Brian couldn't afford—clothes, a stereo, TV, Video equipment and cases lined with books. The ceiling had to be twelve feet high.

Keith ignored it, Brian tried for nonchalance.

"The bathroom's over here." It was twice the size of the one at home. "Why don't you sit here." He pointed to the sink counter while he opened a drawer for first aid supplies. He took some cotton, some alcohol and started to carefully wipe at Brian's split lip, pausing when he heard the hiss of pain.

"Sorry."

"…It's OK. I'm sorry that …"

"Sorry's bullshit. You didn't do this. Your asshole father did. Hold still—this might sting." He smoothed some antibiotic cream on the still oozing cut. "It looks like your teeth split your lip. He must have hit you pretty hard."

"It's fine. It'll be alright."

Keith was finished. He put the medicine and all the rest away but stopped Brian when he was about to slide off the counter, his hands resting lightly on the younger boy's knees.

Brian watched Keith slide one hand up to his cheek and thought that with his split lip and his still somewhat blacked eye, he must really look like shit. To his surprise, Keith leaned in and gently kissed the uninjured side of his mouth.

"I told you, I'm going to take care of you."

Suddenly Brian became truly angry. "What the fuck is this about? You looking for some dumbass freshman you can fool around with? You need to be a big brother? What is it? You want to show your friends that you get anybody you want?"

Keith recoiled. "Jesus, Bri—you don't really think that shit, do you?"

Brian stood up, they were he same height. "…Well the fuck else would you…?"

"I like you, that's all. I want to be friends." He saw the disbelief in the youngsters face. "Honest to shit, that's all." He took a step back so he wouldn't threaten the other, his voice lowered. "Look, I know you're gay—so am I. I know how tough it can be." He stopped for a second. "And besides—I like you."

"Bullshit. You could have anyone you want. You don't need to go after me."

"Yeah, but I want to." He moved closer to Brian again. "Don't you get it? I like you, Bri. I like you. I want to—you know."

"Fuck me?"

"Eventually, sure. When you're ready and you want to."

Brian shook his head. He'd known it. It wasn't different, it was the same it had always been, Keith was like the others, like the priest at St. Catherine's and the gym teacher and all the rest. He just wanted a piece of boy ass.

Fuck.

"My mouth hurts. Would you mind taking me home?"

His walls, the ones he had learned would protect him years ago were back in place and this time they wouldn't come down. It was his own fault. If he'd used half his brain he'd have known that someone like Keith wouldn't want him for more than entertainment.

He could even have been part of a bet or something. It was probably why he'd been accepted on to the fucking team in the first place. Shit, everyone knew freshman didn't make Varsity.

Keith must have said something to Wilkins, asked him to give Brian a break or something because he wanted a ready source for blowjobs.

Of course.

He should have known that.

He did know that, he just forgot when Keith started talking to him and helping him and singling him out.

Shit. He should have known.

"Bri? It's not like that, honest to shit. Look—" He took Brian's hand and moved him over to sit in an overstuffed chair with an ottoman that was set up for comfortable reading. "I'm not going to lie to you, OK? No matter what else you think, don't think that I'll ever lie to you because I won't." He smiled a little bit. "I may piss the Hell out of you, but I won't lie to you. Ask anyone. I always tell the truth."

He knelt in front of the younger boy, Brian's eyes on the rug. "I'm no virgin and I like sex as much as anyone—Hell, maybe more—but I want to try to get to know you. I think we have a lot in common and I think we could be good together."

The voice in answer was low. "You want us to be boyfriends or some shit like that?"

"…Well, I'd like to try. Honest to crap, Bri—that's what tonight was about. I thought we could get something to eat and see a movie and all that shit. You know, we could talk, get to know each other a little without being surrounded by fifty sweaty jocks."

He could see the thoughts turning through Brian's head as he came to a decision.

"I can give you some Tylenol for your mouth if it hurts." He put his hand on Brian's knee, barely touching him. "Will you have dinner with me?"

Brian nodded then leaned forward and kissed Keith on the cheek. "I'd like that."

They went down to the car and drove to a diner out of town so no one would know them. They talked about themselves, Keith appalled at the reality of Brian's family and Brian amazed that he had talked about things he swore he'd never tell anyone. When Keith spoke about his own family he didn't try to hide the fact that they were close, that they openly adored one another—he insisted that they weren't the fucking Walton's or anything, they simply liked one another and enjoyed each other's company.

He also added that he didn't tell them everything and they didn't know that he was gay.

At least he had never told them and they had never brought the subject up if they suspected.

Their burgers finished, they decided to go to the movie as originally planned. Alien was playing and Brian didn't want to tell Keith he'd already seen the thing twice over the summer. They went to a big old movie house, one of those old converted legitimate theatres that were huge and dark and great.

Keith led the way up to the balcony, which was almost empty and they found front row seats. The lights went down and Brian was conscious of their shoulders pressed against each other. He could feel the body heat and the play of muscles and he was afraid that he'd cum right in his pants.

Jesus.

He'd never been on a date before but he was pretty sure that would be gross.

Just as the previews were ending and the opening shots were coming on, he felt Keith's hand reach over to hold his and he was suddenly terrified that his palm might be sweaty or something but he mentally took a deep breath and rubbed his fingers against the other boy's and breathed a mental sigh of relief when Keith squeezed back.

After twenty minutes of handholding, Keith just whispered, "Bri?"

He turned his head to see what he wanted. "Yeah?"

And they kissed, gently and long, over and over again. They kissed through most of the movie and Brian's mouth hardly hurt at all. He was hoping that Keith would reach over and touch him, but when he started to move their hands to his crotch, Keith broke his mouth away and said, "Not tonight. Maybe next week."

"Why not?"

"Because I want you to know that I'm not just trying to get in your pants. I said when you're ready."

"Jesus, I'm so fucking hard that…"

"Yeah, I am, too. Next week."

"What about tomorrow?"

Keith started laughing. "You sure you're just a freshman? Kids these days."

"Fuck you."

"I said next week, twat."

TBC

8/7/03

Title: New Kid #5

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Five 

"So you went on a date with Keith? You mean a real date?"

"Shut up, Mikey."

"But Brian, that's just so cool—I mean what did you do? Did he pick you up and did you go out to dinner and all that? Jesus—what did your parents say?"

"Just shut the fuck up about it, OK? I mean it, I don't want to talk about it."

They were sitting together on the lawn during lunch period on Thursday, Brian's eye was back to normal and his mouth was healed, too. He was mentally kicking himself that he'd admitted to Mikey that the reason he didn't answer the phone on Saturday was because he'd been out with Keith. He had managed to steer the conversation away from the whole thing all week, but he was having trouble dodging it any longer. Besides, part of him wanted to talk about it. He was also wishing that Mikey would disappear in case Keith came by.

The two boys, Brian and Keith, had spoken on the phone after they'd both gone to their respective homes after the movie, talking about what a good time they'd had, the make out session in the balcony. Keith confessed that he'd been worried that Brian's parents might have waited up for him, that he might have had more trouble, but Brian assured him that they were both passed out by the time he'd gotten back.

"You know, if you ever need a place to get away, you can come here. No shit. There's lots of room and you wouldn't be hassled or anything."

"…That's really great of you, but I couldn't…"

"Yeah, you could."

Brian was taken aback by the offer. Sure, he'd walked into Mikey's house a couple of weeks ago, but he'd at least been introduced to his mother and Mikey and his Mom—they were, shit—they were blue collar and living from paycheck to paycheck, too. They knew about this kind of thing. They understood. And they knew about kids getting beat up.

"I wouldn't—I mean, I don't think I could…"

"Hey—Bri. I want you safe. OK? I want you around for a long time."

"Brian? Hey, Brian."

He came back to the school lawn from his daydream. Shit, he'd never met someone like Keith before. Tall, handsome, smart, popular, team captain and he liked a punkass freshman.

Damn.

"What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted to come over after school today."

"I have practice."

"I know that. I asked if you could help me with my math after practice and then stay for dinner."

"Oh—yeah, sure." He bit into his daily apple. "I just have to be home by like eight."

"Curfew?"

"Yeah, sort of." Keith said he'd call about then. The bell rang; they had three minutes to get to class. "I'll meet you at my locker after I'm done."

At practice that afternoon, Keith and Brian ran wind sprints together, the coach pulling Brian aside and asking him if he had thought about the winter track team. Flattered, Keith promised that he'd tell him all about it, he was on it himself and that Brian was a natural.

The glow lasted for hours.

At Mikey's house he realized again the lack of tension compared to his own home. It wasn't like it was difficult or anything—the phrase 'like day and night' occurred to him.

They got soda, watched some TV and went over the homework Mikey was having trouble with and that Brian had understood since he was like eleven.

"Hey Brian? You like comics?" Brian was about to snark back a snide comment when he caught the look on the other's face.

"Yeah, they're OK. You like them?"

"…Well, yeah—When I was like seven or something like that I was at the store with my Mom and I saw this Captain Astro comic? I think it was number seventy-four when he and Galaxy Lad have to save the world because Mars has slipped off its course and is heading to Earth? Anyway, I actually stole the thing and brought it home."

"You stole the thing?"

"Yeah, but I felt so guilty that I took it back."

Brian looked at him, amused. "Mikey, that's pathetic."

They sat in silence for a minute.

"So, did you and Keith kiss?"

"I'm not telling you that, asshole."

Michael laughed at him. "You did, didn't you? You did. You are sooo busted."

"Shut up, Mikey."

"You like him, don't you? C'mon—you really like him, right?"

Brian didn't say anything, just smiled to himself.

"He's totally hot, Brian. He's like the best at everything—he's smart and he's captain of like three teams and he's got a great bod and he's even a nice guy." Michael drank some of his coke. "You so lucky, Brian."

Brian caught where this was going. "You'll meet someone, Mikey. You'll see."

He shrugged. "Maybe."

They heard the door slam; the spring had broken a year ago. "Michael?" She walked into the living room, "Hi Brian, you staying for dinner, sweetie? I just have to heat up the lasagna."

As far as Brian was concerned, lasagna came frozen from Swanson in an aluminum tray. He was leery of this homemade stuff.

"That would be great, Mrs. Novatny. Thanks."

Half an hour later she called them to come down from where Michael had been showing Brian his boxes of comics. To his credit, he neither laughed at nor made fun of his new friend, hiding that he found the things pretty stupid. Mikey, ecstatic, preened with happiness at having someone to show them to.

The meal, to Brian's amazement was better than anything he'd tasted, probably in his life. Usually the dinners at his house were either burned or raw, sometimes still frozen and often simply missing altogether. He had become adept at finding his own meals, though he would never enjoy cooking or become good at it. Food at his house was something to be consumed quickly, generally alone and never a source of pleasure.

Here, they sat down together, talked about how their days had gone, what had happened, what hey would be doing tomorrow. One person would talk, the other would listen—it was the way families were like on TV, if you ignored the fact that there was no father and the kid was gay.

It was quarter to eight.

"Thank you Mrs. Novatny. That was really good." It was as demonstrative as Brian could get with people he didn't know all that well yet. Debbie seemed to understand that.

Mikey walked him to the door. "Brian? You really like him, don't you?"

He actually blushed, the only time Michael would see that. "Yeah."

Mikey closed the door as he walked down the front steps. He was happy for Brian; really he was, if only… Well, Keith would be graduating in June, would go off to college, then maybe…

An hour later the phone rang in the upstairs hall, Brian carried it into his room, the long cord allowing him to share it with his sister.

"Hello?"

"Hey. I was hoping that you'd answer."

Brian spoke before his shyness could take over. "I was hoping that you'd call."

"Well, I said that I would, you twat. I was talking to Wilkins after you left—he thinks that you might make all-state this year. If you did that you'd be the first freshman in the school to do it."

"Yeah, right. We haven't even had our first game yet, you don't really know if I can play."

"No—we've been watching you in practice, you're already first string."

He lay back on his bed, smiling at the compliments. "Bullshit, Keith, the starting team hasn't been announced yet."

"It hasn't been announced yet but you're on it. I was talking to Wilkins and he said so." There was a pause while Keith swallowed something. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"I have to drive to my grandmother's to pick up some stuff. You want to take a ride?"

"You mean after school?" Brian didn't want to miss practice.

"Right…hey, it's OK, practice is called because the coach's have to go to some county meeting, everyone's getting a call about it tonight."

"I guess so. Will we be back late?" Like his parents would give a crap.

"Well, here's the thing. I was sort of thinking that we might just stay over at her house. She's out in Gettysburg and she'd like the company."

"Shit, Keith, I mean stay with your grandmother? Won't she wonder who I am?"

Keith was laughing. "Jesus, you are such a twat, I fucking swear. You're a friend. That's all, no big deal."

"Well…"

"She has this great apartment over the garage, it's all self contained and we can stay there." He took a breath, his voice dropping. "Please, Bri? Just you and me, OK?"

His voice dropped just as low. "I'd like that."

"Great, Bri. OK, after school we'll swing by your house to get your stuff and then we'll head out."

Brian had goose bumps on his arms. They would be alone in the car both ways driving and they'd have a whole night together in some private place. "OK…Keith?"

"Yeah?"

"This will be really good, won't it?"

"This is going to be fabulous. I'll see you in school tomorrow. Later."

"Later."

That night Brian agonized over what shirts he would take, which pair of jeans, or should he go with the chinos? He tried to find underwear that wasn't too old and socks without holes. He would have worried about the brand of toothpaste if he hadn't noticed that he and Keith used the same kind. He barely slept and when he did he woke time and again. He was up and dressed by six thirty, at school by seven. With nothing to do, he went to the library and read some of his English assignment, his eyes going to the window every thirty seconds to see when Keith's car pulled in.

He didn't hear anything any of his teachers said during any of his classes and it was only because he was ahead of the class that he was able to ace the AP Bio test.

By one thirty he was practically counting the seconds and convinced that the school's electricity was faulty, the only explanation as to why the clock hands were going so slowly.

Finally, finally, the bell rang, they were free to go.

He got his things from his locker, stowed his books and taking out a small gym bag holding his change of clothes and things for the night. He was out at Keith's car as the older boy was unlocking the door.

"Hey."

"Hey. We'll stop at you house and go, right?"

"I thought it would be quicker of if we didn't have to stop, so I brought my stuff with me. Is that alright?" He was suddenly afraid that he'd overstepped the mark, that he had assumed too much.

"Get in."

Shit, he had, he had been too pushy and Keith was pissed. Shit. Fuck.

Chastised, he sat in the passenger's seat, Keith beside him seeing the crestfallen expression.

"Bri?"

"Yeah?" His eyes were on his lap.

"Hey. C'mere."

He looked over. Keith leaned towards him and, heedless of who might see, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Are you mad?"

He smiled. "I didn't want to stop either. Shit, Bri—I could hardly sleep last night thinking about tonight and spending all this time together with no one to bother us. Christ—I had to jerk off like four times so I wouldn't turn blue."

They shared a relieved laugh. "I beat off, too. I kept thinking about you."

"OK, this is going to be good."

Neither of them noticed the two people who had seen the kiss. Michael watched, thinking that they looked like they fit together, like they belonged together and Mark Chay hoped that what he saw was some shitty joke—a hazing or something.

He didn't want to think that Keith was a fag.

TBC

8/8/03

Title: New Kid #6

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Six 

"Grandma? This is my friend, Brian."

"Aren't you nice to drive all the way out here with Keith. You're probably both hungry, right? I have a stew ready and there's plenty for both of you. Just get cleaned up and come on down to the kitchen."

"Gram? Is it alright if we sleep in the apartment? We don't want to keep you up tonight or anything."

"Playing music and talking all night? I guess that would be fine. Go get ready to eat first, though."

Keith showed Brian the apartment over the garage. Larger than he had expected, comfortable and completely isolated from the rest of the house and with it's own private entrance.

The main house itself sat on maybe a hundred acres of farmland, the stubble from last summer's corn crop standing where it had been left.

Brian was shy with Keith's grandmother, despite her kindness. He was unused to talking about himself and she asked him an endless stream of questions about himself and his family. She wanted to know how long he and Keith had known each other, how they had met, what his father did for a living, what his interests were, his plans for college ("He's only a freshman, Gram, lighten up."), his hopes for the future and likely wondered about his blood type, but somehow didn't get around to asking.

The dinner was endless; as far as Brian was concerned and he couldn't shake the feeling that Mrs. White knew exactly what was going on—or what might be going on in her garage later that evening. The thought inhibited him to where he was as close to tongue-tied as he got. Just her looking at him was enough to make him blush.

Finally, finally, the dinner ended, the boys going down to the cellar to get the old furniture she wanted moved up to the barn so it could be sold later that week. It took two hours to get it all relocated and left both boys hot, tired and sweaty.

She had been supervising the work, hands on hips and brooking neither dissent or slacking. By the time they had gotten it all placed where she wanted the sky had gone dark and the boys were sitting on a couple of hay bales, resting.

Their reward was a couple of cold beers. "Now I know you're both underage, but a little bit never did anyone any harm. You two relax and take it easy for a bit. I'm turning in, myself, but you two stay up as long as you want. Just keep the noise down, alright?"

"We'll see you in the morning, Gram."

"Don't stay up all night, I have some more things for you to do tomorrow before you leave and you'll have that drive afterwards, too."

Keith kissed her on the cheek before she headed back to the main house and she smiled a 'goodnight' at Brian as she went.

"She likes you, Bri."

"I like her, too—you don't know how much I'd…" He trailed off. He downed some of his beer. Growing up in the Kinney household, he was used to it.

"You'd what?"

"…Nothing. I just wish I had a family like yours."

Keith took his hand, kissed it. "You've got me. That's a start." A silence fell over them as they sat there holding hands, both thinking of the apartment they'd be using that night, both secretly wishing that the awkwardness was over and they were already up there, sharing the bed and doing things to one another. It would be so much easier if they could just skip all the stuff in between and go straight to being together and loving each other and being able to say exactly what they meant and knowing that the other would understand.

Keith was the one to make the first move, standing, pulling Brian up, their hands still joined. He led them up the set of stairs leading over the garage, opened the door and let them inside.

He snapped on the light and Brian looked around. It was, not surprisingly for Keith's family, beautiful.

It was a decent sized but not large room over the two car stalls below. There was one room with a closet and bathroom at one end and a tiny kitchen at the other. The main area was a combination living room/bedroom. It was like a small studio, self contained and well furnished.

Keith knew Brian was frightened—terrified—of what would happen. He was only fourteen. It would be his first time and though he thought he wanted to do it, he was scared to death.

It was natural, it was normal and Keith hoped like Hell that he wouldn't do anything to screw this up.

The room was hot, stuffy from being closed up. He threw open a couple of windows and pulled his shirt off. It had to be almost ninety in the room.

He turned the TV on low, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid happened to be playing. Turning the lights off, then sat on the couch, looking an invitation to Brian to join him. There was a long second of hesitation before he did, placing himself at the far end, a throw pillow on his lap.

The room was cooling already with a slight night breeze. It would be bearable soon.

Keith lay full out on his side on the couch, his head on another throw pillow against Brian's leg, close enough that Brian could feel his body heat through his jeans.

The younger boy was trying to relax, his long legs stretched awkwardly in front of him. He shifted so that he was slumped further down, more comfortable

After a few minutes, Keith snuggled up a little higher, close against the leg. It couldn't have been an accident. Brian stiffened for a second and decided to ignore the fact that his pulse was going faster and that he kept looking at the skin on Keith's shoulder and back, taut over the muscles. It looked like it would feel like a combination of satin and velvet.

After another fifteen minutes, Brian's hand came to rest on Keith's naked shoulder. At first he felt like a breeder on a date, trying to cop a feel in the balcony, but Keith rolled over partly on his back, smiled up at him and moved his head onto Brian's lap, reaching for his other hand and holding it.

"Do you mind?"

"…No—do you?"

Keith looked up at him, still holding his hand. "I've only had one real boyfriend and we broke up a year ago. This is the first hand I've held since then". He smiled that quiet smile that had started to melt Brian's heart. Not that he would ever admitted that to anyone.

The final scenes of the movie were real barnburners. The final shoot out, the two main characters defending one another against impossible odds and then choosing to die together in a hail of bullets. Keith put his hand up on Brian's knee, "I know we were just emotionally manipulated, but I love the ending of that thing."

He looked down at Keith's face again. "Those men loved each other. They were friends; they cared about each other as much as they had probably ever cared about anyone in their lives. They decided to die together—they'd be together forever, well they'd live on in legend, anyway." He put his hand on Keith's cheek. "It was a love story."

"But it wasn't sexual." This was going somewhere Brian wasn't sure he was ready for, at least not right now, anyway.

"No, probably not." His hand came up to touch Brian's face, languidly caressing his cheek and slowly drawing down his throat and chest, around the nipples and then back up again. Keith watched as Brian's eyes closed, heard the intake of breath, felt the erection starting. Sitting up and facing the other young man, he put one hand around the back of Brian's head and drew them together until their mouths were only inches apart. "May I kiss you?" It was whispered in his soft lilt.

Not speaking, Brian nodded slightly, once. In that moment he wanted to kiss Keith more than he wanted anything.

Their first kiss of the evening was just a gentle brushing of lips, shy and tentative. The next kiss was more, lips caressing lips, a tongue gently gliding between the slight parting to seek entrance. At the touch of tongue to tongue, they both felt the shock of the newness of each other and the surprise of the mutual desire.

"Keith…"

"Ummm."

"Wait." He pulled back, inches away.

Immediately contrite. "…I'm sorry. I thought that you wouldn't mind." Keith started to get up, to apologize. "I thought that after last week you wanted…"

"No, wait." His hands tightened around the slender waist, the runner's hips. "I just meant—why me? Why now, tonight?"

"Because I want you and you want me and we're here and we're alone and it's not wrong."

"But why me? You could have…God, you could have anyone you want."

He leaned in, kissing Brian's cheek, staying there for a moment, their faces gently touching. After a moment he moved so that he could see Brian's eyes and the fear. "You're intelligent and accomplished, you are beautiful and we have a—chemistry when we're together. It's not just my imagination. I know that you feel it, too."

Brian hesitated, gathering his courage, "We do connect, don't we?"

Keith's fingers were tracing the outlines of Brian's face and answered by leaning in for a deep series of kisses, tongues twining, against each other, lips caressing, hands stroking over muscles, skin, hair.

Breathless Keith pulled back, his eyes lidded. "No, not here." He stood, putting out his hand and pulling Brian to his feet and into an embrace.

"Where?" Another series of kisses, the TV was snapped off and they moved over to the queen sized bed across the room. The only light was from the window and the half moon outside.

Brian spoke into Keith's mouth. "How did you know I would agree?" They were embracing in the middle of the room, close to the bed.

"I didn't know, I—hoped that you would." He kissed Brian tenderly, carefully. "We will become lovers tonight and we will last." It was said with more certainty and confidence than he probably felt, more a statement of hope than of fact.

Keith's hands were outlining and framing, caressing Brian's face and neck, his mouth placing soft kisses on his cheeks and forehead, chin, neck, behind his ears.

"…Why will we last?"

"Because we are soul mates…" spoken into his mouth.

Keith's hands moved around Brian's waist, lifting the tee over his head, stroking the long planes of his chest and back, his sides and his arms. Brian's hands were gently flat against Keith's back, pulling him closer until the skin of their bare chests met, warmth against warmth. Both sets of arms embraced, feeling the heat between them until Keith's hands slowly moved to the button and zip on Brian's jeans. In a graceful movement, both pants and underwear were gone as Brian returned the favor with Keith's own clothing.

They pressed the lengths of their bodies close together and lay on the bed next to them, Keith pressing Brian beneath him, face up. Carefully, slowly, he worked his way down the length of Brian's chest, lingering on the sensitive nipples and smiling at the sounds he could cause by attention to them. He continued on to the stomach, the abdomen, feeling the skin jump with the stimulation, his hands stroking up an down the long legs, inside and out, stopping just short of the hardness at the center. After minutes of this, Brian, with some urgency, pulled Keith to lay full upon him again, feeling the weight and warmth covering him. Almost immediately, he came between them, his arms and hands clenching Keith's back.

Gasping he managed, "I'm sorry, I couldn't wait. I wanted to make it last, and I couldn't…"

His weight transferred to his elbows, looking down at Brian's flushed face feeling the pounding of his heart between them, their legs tangled. Keith resumed the series of gentle kisses he had begun earlier to Brian's face and neck.

"But it felt good, didn't it?"

"Yes…"

"That's enough for tonight. That's all we need right now."

"But you…"

"It doesn't matter, we've all night. It will last longer next time, if that's what you want."

"I want to make you feel as good as I do now…"

"You will. I told you, we have time."

Keith rolled himself over to the side, still kissing Brian's cheek and his hair. His arms still around him and holding him close and safe. They were warm and comfortable and quiet together. Brian began to relax into the embrace, he knew that he was close to sleep.

"Why do you think that this will last?"

When there was no answer after a couple of minutes Brian tried again. "Keith?"

There was another silence and Brian started to think that Keith was asleep when he heard the soft voice close to his ear. "Because I love you." He raised his head, looking into his eyes, seeing that what he had just said was the truth.

After a few seconds that lasted a while he leaned forward and, as carefully as he could, kissed Keith's mouth. Gently, tenderly, lovingly, he kissed him and then kissed him again. "I don't know yet how I feel—this is still new to me. I mean, we're new. I need time."

Keith's hands stroked his back. "I've already told you, Bri", the nickname becoming an endearment on Keith's lips, "We have time."

He was tired, but he still had to know. "Does your grandmother know about you? Will she suspect about us tonight?"

"She thinks that Chris was my girlfriend. She thinks I'm straight. She thinks that you're just a friend."

There was something about the deception that made Brian uncomfortable, but he knew it was the only feasible way for now. "What would she do—what would your parents do if they found out?"

Keith was silent again for a few long minutes. "I'm not sure. What about yours?" He stroked Brian's arm, holding him close.

"My father would beat the crap out of me and my mother would say novenas for my soul." He spoke matter of factly. "I'd probably be thrown out."

"If it ever happens, you have a place to go. I promise, Bri."

"Keith…"

"Hey, I said I'd take care of you, remember?"

Brian turned his face so Keith couldn't see how moved he was by what had happen tonight. No one had ever wanted to take care of him, never.

God, it was amazing.

Keith felt the slight shudders, knowing that Brian was silently crying. Saying nothing, he kissed the boy's neck, tightened his arms around him and let him cry himself out. He had meant what he had said.

He'd take care of him.

TBC

8/9/03

Title: New Kid #7

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/Michael (for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school. Brian and Keith get together.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Seven 

Later that night Keith woke with Brian gently kissing his mouth, lightly, so feather like that it was almost impossible to feel the touch. There was no sound. The room was dark. The only sensations were the slightest pressure of another mouth on his, the slither of the bedding and the sound of their own breathing.

He lifted his arms up so that they were around the youngster, as gently and as lightly as the kisses they were now sharing.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Wasn't that your plan?"

Young, shy, a little unsure. "Do you mind? Would you rather go back to sleep?"

"Brian, we're naked in bed, we're making out and we both have boners. No, I wouldn't rather go back to sleep."

Even Brian, frightened as he was, had to laugh. Breaking off the kisses for a moment he raised his face a couple of inches and asked, "What was your first time like?" He expected a joke or some snide remark not the answer he got.

"It—sucked, and not in a positive way. He was a lot older and it was rushed. He didn't give a crap about me. As soon as he was finished he got up and left. The main thing I remember is that he didn't even bother to take his socks off."

Brian didn't know what to say to that, not really, not anything that would help. "How old were you when that happened?"

"Fifteen, a year older than you are now. He was like thirty. I picked him up—we picked each other up on Liberty Avenue. I wouldn't recommend it."

Brian kissed Keith, trying to let him know that he cared, that he wanted to make it better, make the bad memory go away. "Do you think I'm too young to do this?"

Keith managed a small laugh. "You're a very precocious fourteen year old."

"I know I am. Everyone thinks I'm older than I really am." They kissed a bit more, gently, carefully. Keith wanted it to be good for Brian, didn't want him scared. "Do you? Do you think I'm too young for this?"

"Jesus, if I thought that you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have asked you out last week and we wouldn't be boyfriends."

Brian just stared at him in the near blackness of the room, the pause became too long.

"Bri?"

"…Is that what we are?"

Keith kissed him, his arms tightening just a bit. "Well, yeah, what did you think?"

"Shit. Really?"

"Yes, shit, really." He could hear the smile as Brian snugged closer to kiss him, their arms around each other. He pulled Brian on top of him, the younger boy's legs between his own. "I don't want you to do anything that you're not ready for, OK?"

"I'll be alright. I'm fine, I want to do this."

"If I do something that you don't like, tell me—if there's something, anything that you're not comfortable with, just tell me." He nodded. They began kissing again, this time with more intent, more passion, Brian using what little experience he had to try to convey to Keith how he felt, that he wanted to be there and that it was what he wanted. Their tongues touched, lightly, almost tentatively at first, the light touches became firmer, the gentle caresses became explorations of one another's mouths.

Brian discovered that he loved kissing. He loved the closeness, the intimacy, the sharing of breath and the trust between two people. He liked being inside of another person. He loved the feel of lips on lips and the taste. He loved everything about it.

They had kissed before. They had even had make out sessions before, but this time they were naked in bed. It wasn't the same. There was just so incredibly much skin involved.

He loved that Keith was using his hands on his body, stroking up and down his back, his sides, down to his ass and back up again. He loved the feel of his hips being held between Keith's legs and the sweet friction of their cocks rubbing against one another. He loved that Keith's legs rose up and held him in place, safely, securely. He liked the tickle of the hair on his legs rubbing against his own legs and up to his butt.

When Keith's hand started kneading his cheeks, rubbing in circles and up and down, up and down, around and began dipping closer and closer to the cleft between he began to tense. He fought the feeling, trying to relax and renewed his efforts on Keith's mouth to help.

When the first finger slipped between and started rubbing he almost pulled away at the sensation, the feeling of disgust and wondered how anyone could want to touch him there. He was terrified that he'd embarrass himself by doing—something gross, that Keith would kick him out if he somehow lost control of his functions.

Feeling and knowing what Brian was thinking Keith whispered "It's alright, don't worry about it. You won't. Everyone is afraid of that at first."

"…You don't have to touch me there, if you don't want. This is good, just what you're doing." They were both starting to breath harder and Brian realized, blushing in the dark, that he was starting to lightly hump Keith. "…I'm sorry" He stopped, ashamed. He had, after all, been raised in a Catholic house with a religious mother. This was a sin, no matter what his body and common sense told him. It was ingrained in his brain.

Sensing the problem, Keith renewed his efforts on Brian's mouth, his arms coming up around the strong back again. Using leverage, he carefully rolled them both over so that Brian was now on the bottom, flat on the mattress. Working his way down from Brian's mouth, he started on the youngster's jaw and throat, suckling on his Adam's apple and on down to the juncture where neck met shoulder.

Brian's hands clenched Keith to him, his breath coming faster than before.

He moved further down, sliding his tongue down to Brian's right breast. His mouth latched onto the small nub, suckling and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. The jolt through Brian's body more than told him how much he liked it. Brian's hands moved up, holding Keith's head in place, gently pressing him down, asking him not to stop. Keith used his other hand to stroke up and down Brian's body, down his shoulder to the sharp jut of his hip bones and back up again. Finally moving his own body further down, Keith began a slow progress down the taunt abs, across to the ribs and down to Brian's navel, his tongue rimming around it, then in and out.

He felt the gasps from Brian as much as he heard them and smiled to himself as Brian began to writhe under him, his larger body pinning him down and keeping him under Keith's control.

Both of Keith's hands were now fondling, tweaking Brian's nipples, his mouth still moving further down and Brian's cock leaving a wet spot on his chin where he managed to bump into it. He smiled at the feeling.

Without pausing, he took the entire head into his mouth, sucking hard and tonguing the slit at the same time. Brian's body spasmed, his stomach muscles and his abdomen moving in waves, his gasps becoming moans. Keith was vaguely aware that Brian's hands were clenching, clutching the bedding, his feet flexing over and over again.

He slid his mouth up and down a few more times, keeping the suction from his mouth firm, hard and steady as he moved along the length of Brian's cock, his tongue moving in random patterns around the head, up and over, under and down the member.

Without warning Brian tried to pull away, his hands trying to push him off, to move Keith away from his groin. Knowing what was happening he stayed where he was, catching the youngster's hands, holding them and finishing what he had started. The cum flooded his mouth as Brian let out a groan that like nothing he'd heard and as wonderful a sound as he could hope to find. The young body beneath his went rigid, thrusting uncontrollably into Keith's mouth, a dozen times or more, cumming hard.

Swallowing, licking up what he'd missed, he moved up to lie beside his new lover, feeling his body trembling, his breath coming in gasps, a sheen of sweat over his skin. "Bri? Are you alright?"

"…That was so—it was—I feel, I didn't know about, I …" He gently kissed Keith's cheek. "Thank you." Another kiss. "Do you want me to…? Would it be alright if I…?"

"Do you really want to or do you think you owe me some kind of payback?" It was said quietly, but Brian knew he meant the question.

"Well…I want to. I just don't know how." He kissed Keith again. "Is that alright? You won't get mad or anything?"

He was laughing. "Jesus, Brian, you want to give me a blow job and you're worried that I won't like it?—This shouldn't be a problem."

Even Brian was laughing, embarrassed, finally stopping, catching his breath, "Will you tell me what to do?"

Keith kissed him. "Let's make this easy for you, OK?" They kissed again, tongues embracing before Keith pulled back, his voice calm, soft. "Start by working your way down, since you're up here now."

Brian did as he was told, kissing, sucking, and licking his way down the slender body that was so similar to his own. He noted some of the differences as he did what he hoped would please his lover—even the word made him thrill to some kind of pride. He—Brian Kinney—fourteen years old and he was making love with his boyfriend. He'd cum twice so far tonight, he'd gotten his first blowjob and he was trying to learn how to return the favor.

Keith chest was more developed, probably the result of both being three years older and having played high school sports for over three years now. His muscles were strong and taut. His skin was smooth, perfect. He had more body hair, a slight sprinkling was on his chest, but it was soft and light. Not at all objectionable.

Jesus.

He was down at Keith's crotch; the hair there was soft, too. Somehow he thought that when the time came, when he was really doing what he was doing now—what he was about to do—that he'd be frightened or repulsed or that he'd just close his eyes and try to get it over quickly, but that wasn't it at all.

He was turned on more than he'd ever been and he found that all he wanted was to make Keith feel good, to make him happy and to give him this—gift.

Tentatively he put his hand on Keith's penis, amazed at how hard it was and that it felt just like his. A small part of his brain was proud that his was bigger, but he'd never say anything about that. Almost shyly he raised the tip so that he could get his mouth on it and was slightly surprised that it just tasted like skin, maybe slightly different, but not really all that much.

He could feel Keith tense under him, under his hands and knew that after the last twenty minutes or so, he wouldn't be able to last very long. Brian had already cum twice, Keith not at all. He was also aware that Keith was purposely going easy on him. Hardly thrusting at all, trying not to give him more than he could handle, knowing that he was new at this, that this was his first time.

Brian had just the tip in his mouth, trying to be sure that his teeth didn't graze anything g they shouldn't. He remembered how good it had felt when Keith had licked his slit, so he did the same and heard the gasp of pleasure. Keith bucked further into his mouth, causing him to gag and his throat constricting with it and closing on Keith's tip. That was what did it, putting him over and filling Brian's mouth. Unprepared, he choked, trying desperately to swallow and not completely succeeding.

When Keith was finished, he moved back up, laying himself on the older boy's chest as he caught his breath, listening to his pounding heart gradually slow down and wiping his mouth and chin where his mouth had over flowed.

He was embarrassed, but Keith's reaction, a gentle laugh and a deep kiss reassured him.

"Was that alright?"

"You're a natural."

"Really?"

Keith kissed him again. "You're going to get so good at this. You're going to be the best lover—you'll see."

"You'll teach me? I want to get good at it."

Keith laughed again, but it was kind. "You're going to be perfect. Men will come from all over to be with you."

Brian was the one to lean in for the kiss this time. "But I just want you."

"You have me. You have me for as long as you want, Bri. I told you. We're together now."

There was more kissing but finally, exhausted by the long day and the almost sleepless night, they both fell back asleep, spooned together.

Philip, Keith's father was a doctor, a surgeon who specialized in pediatrics. He was currently researching an article he was writing for the AMA Journal on the treatment of common injuries caused by child abuse.

The night that Brian and Keith were consummating their relationship, he was in the records library of Children's Hospital. For some reason the name 'Kinney' caught his eye and it took a few minutes before he remembered that was the name of Keith's new friend, the one who had been over to the house the other night.

Brian. Yes, that was the boy's name.

He opened the folder. It was thick, at least an inch or so, and stared at the reports.

1973- a year old infant was brought in with apparent severe shaking syndrome. He was treated and released. There was no serious injury. Parents stated he fell out of his crib.

1974- the two-year-old toddler was brought in with a dislocated shoulder. It was put back in position after x-rays. He was treated and released. Parents stated child fell out of his bed. Child services called. No action taken.

1975- Treated for a broken arm. Kept over night for observation then released Parents stated child fell off backyard swing.

1977- five-year-old child treated for three broken ribs. Treated and released. Parents claim child fell down stairs in home.

1980- eight-year-old child, multiple contusions and bruises. Child appeared defiant and angry. Treated and released.

1981- Broken ribs. Treated and released.

1982- Burns on hand. Treated and released. Parents stated child was playing with the stove.

1984- Multiple fractures to left clavicle. Parents stated Child fell off bike. Child unresponsive. Child services called. No action taken.

1985—last year—Child admitted with mild to moderate concussion. Parents claim it was incurred during a neighborhood football game. Child unresponsive, declined to answer questions. Child services called. No action taken.

Philip turned to some Polaroid's of the injuries. In a couple of the shots he could see the kid's face. Yes, no question, that was the boy who'd had dinner with them.

He had suspected that there was something about the boy that wasn't right. He'd been well-mannered enough, polite enough and all that, but there was a wariness about him and a way he had of observing what was going on around him that had struck him at the time.

Now he knew what it was that it reminded him of. The boy reminded him of a trapped animal.

He picked up the phone, asking for the records departments of Allegheny General. Why, yes, they did have records for Kinney, Brian A, DOB 4/23/72. Would he like them messengered over? Certain, they'd be happy to. Could they just tell him what the main entries said? A pattern of admissions over the last dozen years or so. It looked like either a very accident-prone child or an abused one.

Yes, they'd send the report over first thing in the morning.

A call to Pittsburgh University Hospital yielded the same results. He would be willing to bet that if he tracked down the records of local urgent care centers, he'd find more.

It was a common pattern, parents would be afraid to bring a child to the same place too often so they'd move around to different hospitals, see different doctors.

Shit.

Well, it seemed at Keith and the boy had hit it off pretty well, that might help. Now that he knew what the kid was dealing with, maybe he could find a way to help.

Bastards.

Across town Michael was lying in his small bed, hoping that Brian was OK. He knew that Keith was supposed to be a nice guy and all that, but—shit—Brian was still fourteen years old, even though he thought he tried to act older. Keith might get upset of he found out that Brian was gay, he might tell some of the other kids and then everything would be really hard. Brian might even get kicked off the soccer team.

Sure, Brian had hinted that He and Keith were seeing each other, but the guy was one of the big wheels of the school—if he was a fag everyone would know about it. Brian was just wishful thinking.

Brian was smart, though. He'd be careful. He knew how to be careful. When he got back from helping Keith out in Gettysburg, maybe they could go to a movie or something. Michael would warn Brian, not that he probably needed it, but still. You couldn't be too careful.

Maybe if he warned him, Brian and he could really have a good talk, tell each other all about themselves and be like real brothers.

They'd see each other Monday in school. They could talk then.

TBC

8/11/03

Title: New Kid #8

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/OC(for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school. Brian and Keith are discovered.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Eight 

"So, how was it?"

They were sitting in the cafeteria on Monday, Michael and Brian together at their usual table.

Brian smiled to himself. "It was good."

"Brian—c'mon, tell me."

He took a bite of his usual apple, saying nothing.

"Hey, Bri—think you could give me a hand in the gym for a couple of minutes?" Keith paused at the end of the table, barely noticing that Michael was there and scowling at the interruption.

"Brian. I thought we were going to hook up. We haven't seen each other in weeks and I thought that maybe we could…"

"We will, today. Meet me after practice. My locker." He was out of the room, headed after Keith before Mikey could lodge another protest.

In the equipment room they had their arms around each other as soon as the door closed. "Are you alright? Did your parents say anything when you got home last night?"

Brian kissed him, holding on, his arms around Keith. "They never notice what I do." He smiled as he broke the kiss. "They don't care. What about yours?"

"They think it's a little odd that I've become such good friends with a freshman, but they're OK with it. My father even said you seemed mature for your age."

When they stopped laughing about the understatement, Brian asked "Can I see you later, after practice?" He whispered to Keith's cheek. "I'd like to practice what you taught me this weekend."

"I've set you on the road to ruin." They kissed again, deeply, tongues intertwining until the class bell rang. "Come over after dinner, if you can. We'll make up some shit about the team that we have to work on."

Brian's smile grew as he nodded. Letting themselves out of the closet, they kept a distance between them as they waked down the hall.

After practice Mikey met Brian by his locker, as had sort of become their custom, at least when Brian wasn't with Keith. They would meet up; Brian would get whatever books he needed for that night's homework then they would go over to the diner for a snack. Brian would avoid going home as long as he could, and Debbie would fuss over him while pretending not to fuss.

He relished the attention he was getting for the first time in his life and after a few months of it he was starting to thrive. What had been almost pure bravado and arrogance slowly, over the course of a few months evolved into genuine confidence.

Deb took credit for the youngster starting to come out of his shell, not realizing that she wasn't the only reason, or even the main one.

He let her have her fantasy.

He and Keith were becoming inseparable and though they were both discrete, they knew that there were remarks about them. No one would say anything to either of their faces—Keith was one of the major wheels in the school and Brian, thought still just a freshman, had established himself as being more than able to take care of himself both verbally and, if necessary, otherwise.

The rumors made the rounds, though.

The rest of the soccer team, and later the track team defended both boys, saying the very idea that they were fags was complete and utter bullshit. Look at them, for shit's sake. They were friends, OK? Get over it. So Brian was still a freshman. Look at the kid, he looked and acted like he was like seventeen or eighteen. He was the only Frosh to make first string Varsity. They had won the frigging State Championship again, Damnit, with his help. He was the only freshman to make All-State. He had set a school record in the middle distances in track and he was still on the Goddamned honor roll.

No one had ever seen them lay a hand on one another. They were friends. Period. Get over it.

The two boys would occasionally go out with girls, or rather Keith would. Brian pretended that he was simply a late developer and wasn't interested—which was true, as far as it went. Keith took Alice Eldridge to the Christmas Dance and to the Spring Formal. She was a friend since kindergarten and she understood. They had a good time together and knew exactly what they were doing. Brian accepted the ruse for what it was. He knew it didn't matter.

After a month or so the rumors died down. The two boys were simply too popular for that sort of scandal to touch either one of them.

Brian was often invited to Keith's for dinner, an offer he rarely refused. The family was a warm one, the members actually liking one another and seeking each other out. It was like another world to Brian—a family that liked one another and willingly spent time together. At first he was quiet at these meals, saying little other than to thank Keith's mother at the end. Eventually he started to contribute, bit by bit. The night he made a snarky comment in response to something Keith had said, they knew that he felt at ease.

On a weekend, when the boys would often be up late together talking or watching movies, Brian would often be invited to just sleep over. Keith's room was a large one, he had a large bed and his parents knew that Brian's home life was poor, at best. The two of them would stay up late, occasionally joined by one or both of Keith's parents. They would all chat or even just read in the same room as the boys and would go up around midnight.

The boys would follow in an hour or so and would, seemingly go right to sleep. There was never any noise.

If Keith's parents suspected that the boys were more to one another than close friends, they never asked and certainly never voiced their suspicions. They congratulated themselves on giving Brian the example of a stable home life and a safe haven from the Hell he was used to.

Dr. White had made a check of the various medical facilities available for about a fifteen-mile radius and had learned that Brian had been either treated and released or treated and held in almost every venue, usually more than once. The complete list of his injuries was two pages long and began when he was less than six months old.

One winter's day Philip White took his son and Brian to his athletic club for a workout on the weight equipment. It would be a treat for all of them after all the snow and he was hoping to see if Brian's numerous injuries had left many visible scars. In the locker room he noticed that Brian seemed more modest than he would have thought for a youngster used to being on an athletic team—with constant changing in a group. He took his bag into one of the curtained off cubicles, not coming out until he was wearing his shorts and a tee.

After the hour and a half of weight lifting, stair mastering and the boys pacing one another as they jogged a couple of miles on the indoor track, they hit the showers. Again, Brian chose to use a private stall. Though his father said nothing, Keith saw his odd look and knew what he was trying to find out. He'd heard his parents talking more that once about Brian's home life and he could have told them more if he'd decided to.

The fact was that he knew tat Brian would be destroyed if he believed that anyone found out about his family's dirty laundry. It was only the pretense and the walls that Brian had built up to protect himself that kept him holding on. To expose the reality of his life, to knock down those walls might be too much for him.

Keith knew about the scars, just like he knew about the drinking and the affairs that Brian's father flaunted in front of his family. He knew that Brian had latched onto him as a lifeline away from all the shit and he loved the kid enough to let him hold on for dear life.

He looked forward to the nights he and Brian would get talking, purposely not noticing the time, forcing Brian into an overnight.

They would go up to his room, just like any normal friends. They would change their clothes and brush their teeth. His Mom would come in to say goodnight and tell them to please keep the noise down. They would promise. The TV might be on low, or maybe music would be playing.

They would either settle on the floor or the bed and they'd turn out all the lights except for the flicker from whatever movie they'd stuck in or maybe just that kitschy old lava light that his father used to own. They'd snuggle down together, right against one another and in minutes they'd be kissing, their clothes would be off and they'd be pressing against one another.

Brian had gotten over his initial shyness about sex pretty fast. By the time they had slept together two or three times, he was almost becoming the aggressor. He would come up when no one was around—maybe in the locker room or the equipment closet or in Keith's own room—slip his arms around Keith and start kissing some part he could reach. Sometimes he'd start on his neck or throat. Sometimes he'd start on his mouth; sometimes he'd just lift up the shirt and start on his nipples.

Wherever he started, Keith would take it up in seconds.

Damn, it amazed him how much he loved touching the little shit. Brian was hot and sexy and loved cumming in his mouth as much as he loved it when Keith returned the favor.

They had never buttfucked, though. In truth, Keith wanted to and so did Brian, but Keith was afraid. He'd heard that it hurt and he couldn't bear the idea of hurting Brian. He didn't mind it for himself. He figured that he could take a little pain to get to the fun, but after the way Brian had been hurt all his life by people who were supposed to love him, he—shit, he just couldn't add to that. Besides, Brian seemed to have a fear of hurting someone he loved. It was probably a reaction to those turds who were, at least nominally, his parents.

Keith finally met Brian's parents, months after they two boys had connected. He and Brian were going out, supposedly with a group of kids but they were really making an appearance at a soccer team party then just the two of them would peel off and hopefully spend the night together. Keith had stopped by the Kinney house to drop off the book Bri had left in the locker room that afternoon and surprise the little twat. Maybe they could go catch some dinner before hand. Better yet, maybe they could go to their favorite secluded park and have some fun together.

He heard the parents before he saw them. He heard them when he was about twenty feet from the front door.

It was a cold day and the windows were closed, so that wasn't even an excuse.

After hesitating, he rang the bell.

An older looking woman, severe and obviously angry answered. "Yes?"

"I'm a friend of Brian's, he left his book at school and just wanted to drop it off. Is he here?"

She looked like she was about to tell him to get lost when a man, a drunken man, came up behind her. "So he one of yours, Miss High and Mighty? He do to you what you don't want me to?"

She went even stiffer, if was at all possible, and dealt by changing the subject and calling up the stairs. "Brian? Brian! A friend of yours is here."

Within seconds Brian was at the head of the stairs and headed down at a run. Grabbing his jacket by the door he said, "Let's go", grabbed Keith's arm and the boys were out the door.

"Brian? Brian! Where are you going? You answer me!"

"Sonnyboy, you get your skinny ass back here, you listening to me? Sonny boy!"

Five minutes later they were sitting in Keith's car, parked along the river when Brian asked, his voice low, "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

"Shit—I'm sorry that you saw that…"

Keith turned Brian's face to him, kissed the youngsters forehead then his mouth. "That's not you, Bri. You're better than they are. You'll never be them."

Without warning Brian's arms went around Keith, his voice anguished. "Yes I will. I'm exactly like them. I'm going to end up in some crappy job I hate in some shitty house and I'll drink and I'll end up a fucking loser like them."

"The fuck you will. You're smarter than anyone I know and you work harder than any three people around. Don't give me that self pity shit, you hear me?"

Brian tried to reach Keith's face, tried to kiss him.

"No, don't try to change the subject. You're not going to end up like them. You can move in with us if you have to. My parents said so. You don't have to stay there."

"Keith…" He was shaking his head.

"You're going to be incredible—you already are, you asshole. You're going to come back here in ten years and you're going to rub their faces in it."

"I…" He was close to tears.

"You're going to do it. You're going to get out of here and you're going to get to some fucking good college and you're going to land some hotshit job and make tons of money and you're going to tell them to piss off."

The head that was now against his chest was still shaking 'no.'

"Don't you fucking tell me that. You're going to do it."

There was a space of breaths while Brian worked up the courage to say what was really on his mind. "But you're going in a few months. You'll be at fucking SC and I'll be here and the only thing that kept me hanging on this year was you."

"…How do you know I got into SC?" The University of Southern California had been one of Keith's dreams since he had seen a shot of the Tommy Trojan statue on some TV show when he was about ten. No one knew he'd gotten early acceptance. He'd put off telling Brian until he could find the right time. He knew the youngster was hoping that he'd end up at Pitt so they could still see each other all the time.

Brian sat up, isolated on his own side. "Your dad told me last week. I called for you and he answered the phone. I think the letter had just arrived that afternoon and he was excited about it. He told me."

"Shit, Bri. I was going to tell you. I swear to God."

"It's alright. It'll be fine." His voice was toneless, devoid of expression.

"Bri, I was going to tell you. I knew you'd be upset and I didn't want to hurt you. Honest. I just didn't want you hurt."

Brian was silent. Keith could feel the walls up between them and didn't know what to do. He was only seventeen himself. He didn't know what to do. Tentatively he put his hand on Brian's cheek, pulling his face around, wanting to kiss him to make it better. Brian allowed himself to be moved like a mannequin and responded to the kiss physically but with no feeling.

He had known, really, that he and Keith would have to break up, but part of him had kept the fantasy that somehow they would just go on as they had been, that he would go to school somewhere local and maybe they could even move in together.

"Bri, please. I've always wanted to go there, you know that. You can go, too in a couple of years. We can be there together and I'll be back in the summers and for most of the holidays. We'll still see each other all the time."

It was bullshit and they both knew it but Brian smiled, "Sure. It'll be fine." He kissed Keith, "We should go. Jamie expects us to be at his party tonight. Well, he expects you, anyway. He puts up with me."

"Jamie likes you just fine." It was a lie, but Brian didn't call him on it. It didn't matter. Jamie's nose was out of joint because Brian had taken his spot as second only to Keith on the team. He was pissed because he knew the kid really was that good. Besides, before Brian had come along, he and Keith had been friends—no, not lovers, just good friends, but since the new kid arrived, that had been back burnered. Brian knew how he felt and why, he dealt with it by just being polite and staying away from any confrontations. It had worked so far.

"I had a surprise for you tonight. I was going to save it for later, but maybe it will cheer you up a little."

Fat fucking chance. "What is it?" He asked the question with no interest. The day had sucked big time, there wasn't much that would salvage it. Whatever it was didn't matter.

"I was talking to Wilkins today during practice. He's ready to name the team for next year."

"Yeah, I know. He asked me if I was going out for it again."

"But he didn't tell you that he's naming you as the co-captain. You'll be the first sophomore to ever get the position in any sport in our school."

"What did you do? Blow him?"

Keith refused to rise to the bait. "You got it because you earned it, now cut the shit. I know you've had a crappy day and I know you don't want to go to the party, but you fucking have to because you're one of the guests of honor so put a fucking smile on your face and stop being a spoiled twat."

He started the car, the drive was in silence which neither one of them knew how to break. When they pulled up outside of Jamie's house and got out, Keith stopped him before he could get too far. No one else was around. "I didn't know how to tell you about SC. I knew you'd be hurt and I didn't know what to say."

"It's alright. It's fine."

"Fucking stop that. Shit, I love you," He was whispering. "I hate that we're going to be separated, but I have to go to college and they offered me a scholarship."

"And your family really needs it, too."

"Bri—shit, can't you be even a little happy for me?"

Brian was leaning against the fender. "…I am. I know this is what you wanted, I just sort of hoped that…"

"It wouldn't happen? Bri, we're still us, OK? It's not over. Fuck, I love you."

Brian reached over to put his hand on Keith's. "I know you do." He attempted a smile. "We'll be alright. We'll see each other a lot and I'll be OK. We'll be OK." He pushed off from the car. "We should go in." He was lying and they both knew it. It would be a while before they sorted this out and they both knew that, too.

"Yeah, they're expecting us. Wilkins is going to be here and he's making the announcement to the whole team."

Brian gave a rueful smile. "I hate shit like this."

"I know but you'll be fine. The guys all like you a lot."

Inside the house was crowded, none of the team members knowing that it was more than just a party until Coach Wilkins showed up about a half an hour later. The Iron City quickly stowed out of sight, he stood on the seat by the fireplace and told the sixty or so people in the room that next year's captain would be Steve Sugrue, this year's co-captain, and his co would be Brian Kinney. That meant that in all likelihood Brian would be captain as a junior.

There was a confused buzz from the players—"Kinney's a freshman." "What about Donnie?" "He's too young." "Fuck that, he's the best player on the team." "He's not experienced enough." He's the only freshman in Pennsylvania to make All-State."

It went back and forth with the consensus finally tipping in Brian's favor when Keith spoke about the talk, "He's the best fucking choice and you assholes all know it, so don't give him shit or I'll come back and whip your butts."

That did it. From that moment on, Brian never had trouble with a single member of the team for any reason.

An hour later he had accepted the congratulations and the ass slaps, the back pounding and the beers. He'd been kissed by various teammates girlfriends and he's eaten the shitty pizza because Keith told him it would be bad form if he didn't.

His mood improved enough that when Keith asked if he wanted to stay over for the weekend, he smiled and blushed. He knew what it meant. They stayed a while longer, both of them circulating and talking to everyone and finally went to the master bedroom to get their jackets off the bed about midnight. Brian was handing Keith his when the older boy took his hand and pulled him the over the foot that separated them, their arms around one another.

"Hey, someone could walk in."

"They're all drunk downstairs." He kissed Brian, deeply. "So, you in a better mood than you were? I know it was a shitty day for you."

Brian kissed him back, deeper and longer. "Yes, better." He smiled a bit. "Can we go?"

"What's your rush, kid?"

"…I'm horny and I think tonight we should finally really fuck."

"And what makes you think I'd go along with that?"

"Because your cock is so hard it's about to drill a hole in me." His hands were down the back of Keith's jeans, holding and squeezing his ass.

"Bri—you sure?" His hands were doing the same to Brian's nether parts.

"Fucking A."

"Well, in that case, we should get going." Laughing, disentangling, they turned to the door.

Jamie, their teammate and host, was standing there.

"Christ, you are a couple of Goddamned fags."

TBC

8/14/03

Title: New Kid #9

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/OC(for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school. Brian and Keith are discovered.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Nine 

Keith pulled Jamie into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Brian was standing shocked, a couple of feet away.

"He didn't do anything I didn't make him do, do you understand me? If you say a fucking word about this, if you tell anyone that he was making a pass at me, I'll kick your ass from here to Hell and back again. You got me?"

"You're full of shit, Keith. I heard you two—fucking sweet nothings and all. Christ, man. I never thought that you would…You'd have been fucking right here if I hadn't walked in."

"Back off Jame. I mean it. This has nothing to do with you. It's none of your fucking business."

"You fucked this kid and now he's co-captain. That's bullshit, man. You get yourself a piece of ass and—we fucking defended you, both of you, when the rumors started." He was shaking his head. "Shit."

"Look, Jamie. Come on, no one's getting hurt. It's not like you think…"

"It's exactly what I think." He paused. "We've been friends how long? Forever? How come I never knew? Huh? How come you never got around to telling me that you like little boys?"

Brian found his voice. "It wasn't Keith. I was the one who started it. I told him I'd suck him off if I made the team. Same thing for first string."

"Nice try, Junior, but you didn't make All-State by sucking dick. We all saw you out there this season and you didn't get there by letting anyone buttfuck you."

"That's why I made the team. You're right about that. OK. It's true. I asked him to let me eat him and he…"

"Shut the fuck up, Brian. Just fucking stop."

"Tell him the fucking truth, Keith—it was my idea. I told you that my parents would be pissed if I didn't make Varsity at my new school so I found out who the captain was and I followed you and then I made you the offer…"

"Fucking liar."

"That's what happened, Jamie. It was me. He didn't even agree until I asked him at least seven or eight times then I told him if he said anything I'd tell. I swear to God."

Jamie looked at the two of them. Keith was his friend. He wanted to believe what the Goddamned little queer had just said. It made sense. It was the obvious explanation. "Shit, Keith. I thought we were friends. If this little shit was blackmailing you, all you had to do was say something. You know it wouldn't have gone any farther than Wilkins. Now the team is stuck with the faggot for three years." He heard the sound of a glass or maybe a beer bottle breaking downstairs and turned to investigate, but first addressed Brian. "You get the fuck out of my house and stay the Hell away from me til the end of the school. You get me, fag?" He stared at Keith. "He comes near you again, you tell me, right, Keith?"

"Jame? You going to say anything?"

"And let people know this fucking fairy blackmailed you, that he made a chump out of you? Shit, no." A last look at Brian, "I'm not saying anything, but I hear one Goddamned thing about you pulling this crap next year—and I will hear, asshole—you're not going to have anything left to buttfuck with—you got me?"

Brian just gave him a steady look then a small single nod before he left.

"Damnit, Brian. I told you to just shut up." Keith was angry—at getting caught, at Brian for lying to protect him, at Jamie for walking in—he was mad at fucking everyone and everything and Brian was standing in front of him, the easiest target. "By Monday morning this will be all over the Goddamned school."

"Keith, it doesn't matter. I'll just tell everyone that I made you, that I kept at you until you agreed and then I blackmailed you, like Jamie said. You'll be fine."

"You fucking twat. You really don't get this, so you? School is out in a week. It doesn't matter if you blackmailed me or not—all anyone is going to remember is that I'm queer and now thanks to you, the whole fucking town is going to know."

Brian was stunned—they wouldn't know. Jamie would tell everyone that Brian was the aggressor, that he was the shit, that he was the faggot. "No—Keith, it'll be alright. We can…we can just stay apart until graduation and then be careful over the summer and it will be OK. No one will know."

"You are so fucking stupid, Brian—a fucking moron. You stay away from me. Don't call me, don't come near me, and don't come over to the house. I don't want to see you; I don't want to know you. You're fucking dead." He had his jacket on. "I'm going home. You stay here and talk to the boys—maybe you can chose a new playmate while you're making the rounds."

"I thought—you said that we'd spend the weekend together. I thought that…"

"Hitch a Goddamned ride home, asshole. And don't call me."

Brian ran after him, but he was already starting his car by the time he got out to the street and was knocking on the driver's side window. Keith gave him a filthy look and put the car in gear, leaving Brian standing in the street.

An hour later, having avoided Jamie, he got a ride home with Steve Delchamps. Thanking him, he didn't go into his house but walked down five blocks and over one to Mikey's house. Using the key he knew was under the plant, he let himself in and quietly made it up to his friend's bed. Stripping, he crawled in and cried while Mickey held him, neither of them saying anything.

Brian went home later that day, it was now Sunday and his mother was at noon Mass. His father was drinking with his friends and who gave a fuck where Claire was.

Taking a deep breath he called Keith's number.

"Hello?"

"Keith, can I talk to you?"

"I told you to fuck off." The connection was broken.

He redialed. "Keith? Please talk to me. Please. Can I see you? Kei…" He heard the receiver click down.

He tried once more.

"Keith, please." His voice was cracking with tears.

"If I talk to you now, will you leave me alone and after this?"

"Yes. I promise." Anything, just talk to me, please.

"We had some fun and now it's not fun anymore. Fuck off and leave me alone."

"…But you said that you loved me." He was crying.

"How else was I going to get into your pants?"

Brian wiped at his nose where it was dripping. "…But I love you…"

"With your crappy family? You don't know what that means. Don't call me again." The line went dead.

He just sat on his bed.

Keith loved him. Keith had told him that he loved him and they had made love and been friends and they had made plans about how they would see each other all summer and over vacations and then he would go to a school near wherever Keith was after he got out of high school in three years and they would get an apartment together and they would be able to live together and it would be perfect and they would be both be happy.

He had promised.

Just last night, up to Jamie walking in, everything had been good and it had all fallen to shit.

That was it.

Keith was ashamed of him. He was embarrassed to be seen with him. It wasn't just the gay thing—it was him. Keith was ashamed to be seen with him—he was just a freshman and his family was shitty and they didn't have any money. That was it. Keith had played with him until someone found out and then he stopped playing because he knew what people would say if they knew he was with crappy, drecky Brian Kinney.

Jamie was right. He'd only made the team because Keith had said something to Wilkins; he had seen him as a possible boy toy for the season and had put in some word that had gotten him on the team.

Being made co-captain as just a payoff for the fun they'd had together. That was all it was.

But Keith had said that he loved him.

He had held him at night and he had told him all kinds of things and they had touched each other and Keith had said that he loved him and Brian had loved him back.

They had kissed and made love and Keith's family had been nice to him and he had thought that he had finally found someone who didn't think he was completely worthless.

He was wrong.

Keith was just jerking him off. He was just a fuck. Keith was right. He was nothing and he didn't know what love was because there was no such thing.

He heard the front door open and close as someone came in. Listening, he heard his mother go into the kitchen. She would probably pour some wine and start on her daily bottle now that church was over.

It was a Sunday tradition. She would go to Mass then come home and get drunk.

A couple of hours later he heard his father come in and begin calling for him. Saying something about the lawn. Shit. He was supposed to mow the fucking grass today and had forgotten.

The heavy footsteps came up the stairs, his door opened. His father was about to start his tirade when he saw his son's tear streaked face.

"You were supposed to cut the grass and instead you're sitting here crying like some fucking pansy? What the Hell's the matter with you?"

Brian wasn't up to dealing with this right now and silently asked his father to go away.

"I asked you a question, Sonnyboy. What the fuck are you sniveling about?"

Still nothing.

"I ask you a question, you answer me, boy. You want to cry? I'll give you something to fucking cry about." He dragged the belt from his waist.

Brian didn't even move when the belt started hitting him. It would stop soon enough, it usually did and this time he didn't care.

The next day at school Brian passed Keith in the hallways with neither one acknowledging the other. If Keith wondered why Brian was wearing long sleeves when it was eighty degrees, he didn't ask and if he saw the welts on Brian's neck, he didn't say anything about them either.

That week Brian accepted the congratulations of the other students who had heard that he was named co of the soccer team and he turned in his final assignments and took his finals.

He spent time with Michael again and they went to the diner after school like they had before. He was quiet and Debbie knew he was upset about something and Vic tried to draw him out, but he avoided answering their questions.

His father left him alone after the last beating, at least for a while, so that was good.

He and Keith didn't have a single conversation again before Keith left for the University of Southern California. They never spoke, they didn't call. When Keith was home on vacation, he didn't contact Brian who had begun to have sex with anyone who showed interest.

On weekend nights he could be found on Liberty Avenue, though he made some effort to be careful and was lucky in his choices. He didn't get sick and he didn't get beaten or raped, though he did have some close calls.

He and Michael became close, though Brian never told him what had really happened.

He co-captained the soccer team and in his junior year was named captain, as he was with the track team. Both teams won the State Championships in his senior year and he was given no small part of the credit.

The gay rumors continued, but after he broke the footballer's hand, no one bothered him.

When he was fifteen he was admitted to University Hospital with two broken ribs and other contusions. Doctor White happened to be on call and asked what had happened. He claimed to have tripped over an untied shoelace and fallen down the stairs.

When the doctor told him he didn't believe him, Brian shut down completely and refused to answer any questions put to him by the doctors, police or the social workers.

When Dr. White told him that he was always welcomed at his home if he needed a place, he politely thanked him and told the man that he would be fine. He was fine, it would be alright.

He didn't ask about Keith.

He went to Penn State on scholarship and was hired by Ryder. He was made a partner at Vanguard.

He never admitted to another person, other than to Mikey and his infant son, and then only in private, that he loved them.

No one else ever heard him say those words.

One Wednesday morning shortly after his thirtieth first birthday he stood to welcome a new potential client to his office for an initial meeting and idea session to have Cynthia introduce the man.

"Brian? This is Keith White, head of Multitech."

TBC

8/17/03

Title: New Kid #10

Author: Simon

Pairing: Brian/OC(for now)

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Back-story. It's 1986. At 14 Brian moves into town. He's the new kid in school. Brian and Keith are discovered.

Warnings: None

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP

Feedback: Hell, yes. 

**New Kid**

Chapter Ten 

"Bri, you look even better than I remember you." Keith came towards him, hand extended and giving a firm grip when Brian accepted the gesture.

"Would you like something before we get started? Coffee. Water?" Cynthia had no idea what was going on, but something was up here. Brian had practically shit a brick when the man walked in. On the other hand, her boss was one of the primo drama queens on the Eastern Seaboard, so it could have been anything—or nothing.

"Coffee, please, if it's no trouble. Black. Thank you." She left to get the drinks as the two men sat on opposite sides of the large desk. "I take it you didn't expect me today, Bri?"

"I was expecting the head of Multitech. That's you, I take it?" He simply nodded. "You've done well for yourself. I've read the financial reports for your company. You're billing over fifty million a year with projections for that to double in the next decade."

"Yes, I'm proud of it."

Cynthia came back in, handing Keith his cup and Brian his water. "Do you need me?"

"No, I'll call you of I do." She went back to her own desk, closing the office door for privacy. Brian looked at Keith for a moment then opened a folio, handing one to Keith. "Shall we get to it?"

"Are you well, Brian?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. On page two I've outlined a few basic concepts as to what I think would be a successful strategy for your campaigns…"

"I wanted to see you, Brian. That's why I arranged this meeting. I thought that if I called your home you might not talk to me."

"I probably would have spoken to you." He looked back at the folder on his desk. "I think that your company lends itself to a combination of heavy print and some TV spots. The TV would help raise awareness of what exactly Multitech does and the print would fill in the details. I think that if you went for the newsweeklies and, obviously the technical journals it would be effective…"

"I'll look at this back in my hotel tonight. I prefer to make my own decisions about this sort of thing and I'm perfectly capable of reading a report." Closing the folder, he sipped his coffee. It was quite good. "Have dinner with me."

"I'm busy this evening, thank you."

"You're a partner in an ad agency. I'm a potential client and I would like to be taken out to dinner to see if we have any chemistry together. It's important that we're on the same page."

"I told you that I have plans."

"Break them or I take my business elsewhere." He was smiling as he said it.

Fuck it. Brian was pissed—he hated surprises and he especially he hated shit like this. Either Keith was looking to get laid or he was—shit, who knew what the fuck he wanted, but Brian hated shit like this. On the other hand, maybe he could get some answers to questions he'd had for fifteen years. "Fine. I'll meet you at Gallagher's at six thirty."

"Good." Keith stood up to go. "Have your legal people draw up the contracts. I'll sign them tonight. You've got the exclusive, you decide whatever you need."

Still seated, Brian nodded, not bothering to say goodbye as the other man made his way out. Picking up the phone, he first dialed down to Legal to have the paperwork rushed then dialed Justin's cel to explain that he would be back late because of having to entertain a client. The boy wasn't upset, saying that he had a project to finish and would be waiting for him when he got home.

He glanced at the clock. Four thirty. "Cynthia? I'm leaving early. I'll see you tomorrow. If Vance is looking for me tell him that we got Multitech and that I'm taking the CEO out for dinner and wanted to get ready. Legal is going to bring up the initial binders in about an hour, leave them on my desk and I'll get them on my way to the restaurant."

His original plan, such as it was, included a trip back to the loft for a shower—with Justin if at all possible—and some chill time to gather himself for the meeting later. On the way to Tremont he reconsidered and turned left instead of right, ending up at Schenley Park, strolling through the pathways and down to Phipps Conservatory at the bottom of the big hill. He'd never told anyone how much he liked the place and that he often came here to think. He would turn off his cel, find a spot on one of his favorite benches and just mull things over.

It was his secret spot. He'd been coming here since he was a teenager.

He was thirty-one, Keith was thirty-four. They hadn't seen each other since the end of Keith's senior year and they hadn't had a conversation since the night of Jamie's party.

At first Brian had thought about him hourly, dreaming about him and plotting ways to get his own scholarship to Southern Cal. He would try to think of ways to keep up with what Keith was doing, how college was going for him, whether or not he had friends—if he had found a new lover. He learned, by listening in the locker room that a couple of the boys had heard that he'd broken his leg skiing one winter and couldn't play soccer or run any more. By the time Brian was a junior in high school, his feelings had hardened and he actively hated the other boy. He saw the broken leg and ruined athletic career as fair justice.

When he was a senior in college himself, at Penn and not at USC, he saw a wedding announcement in the local paper while visiting Mikey over Easter Break. Keith had married some pretty blonde in LA. Mr. and Mrs. White would be making their home in the Valley. Mr. White was president of a small computer company that he had founded, Multitech. Mrs. White was an elementary school teacher. They had honeymooned in Tahiti.

From the time he was in High School to the present day, whenever Brian heard the name 'Keith' his stomach would tighten and he would have to take a moment to stop his reaction. It happened again this afternoon. He still wasn't over the fucker. No one knew.

Shit.

He was having dinner with Keith.

Keith.

Keith had told him that he loved him and then had dropped him like he was a fucking ton of lead without a backwards glance and now he had to deal with the shithead.

Of all the gin joints in the world, he had to walk into Vanguard.

Shit. Obviously this wasn't an accident. The question was now to find out what the fucker wanted.

Shit. Fuck.

He noted, with some detachment, that his palms were slightly sweaty and his heart was beating faster than usual. Keith had looked good. He was still handsome and lean. His hair was still thick and he still had that air of kindness about him that had meant so much a decade and a half ago.

He also had a wedding ring on his Goddamned finger.

Shit.

He toyed with the idea of asking Justin to stop by the restaurant, but didn't. That wouldn't be fair to the kid and besides—what did he really think it would prove? That he could get someone else? That he wasn't a complete loser?

He was on his own.

A couple of hours later he was being seated at a corner booth at the local steak place. Keith had beaten him there and was looking over a copy of the Pittsburgh Post Gazette. He smiled when Brian sat across from him.

"I'm glad that you came. I was afraid that you might change your mind."

"Why did you want to see me, Keith? I'm not that hard to find. If you were curious about my life, you didn't have to go to the trouble and expense of actually hiring me. I mean, you could have just called."

The waiter came by; they gave their drink orders. They both opted for beers. Neither one wanted to get wasted.

"I wanted to be sure that you're alright." He held up his hand. "No, I wanted to see for myself. I did a crappy thing to you. I treated you badly and I still feel guilty about that."

Brian sat back against the bench, regarding Keith for a minute then spoke quietly. In fact he was beyond the anger he'd felt for years, he'd dropped it when he and Justin had gotten back together and it looked like it would last a while. With Justin in his life it didn't matter as much. Oh, it still sucked—what Keith had done—it just had lost some of its importance in his life. The scar had mostly stopped hurting.

Their beers arrived and they gave the waiter their orders. Alone again, Brian asked what he'd wondered since he was barely fifteen. "So why did you do it?" The answer couldn't really matter now, he just wanted to know.

Keith took a drink of his beer, sighed and started talking. "I was in love with you. I want you to know that. All that stuff I said to you—I meant all of it. I really did want us to stay together and get a place, move in and live happily ever after. I had this idea that you could stay in my old room at my parent's house when I went to SC. People would just think that they'd taken you in because of your shitty home life and then I'd come back for Christmas or summer break and we could just pick up where we left off. I really thought that we could do that."

"At the time I would have given an arm if that happened."

Their salads were placed in front of them, they ate as they talked.

"I know. My parents were willing to take you in. I think they told you that." He looked at Brian who nodded in affirmation. Yes, they had offered and he had practically jumped at the chance. He had turned them down after Keith had cut him off.

"And then Jamie walked in on us and knew that we were fags and you panicked." Brian said it as a fact, not an accusation.

He shook his head. "Not for the reason you think. I didn't give a fuck about being outted. I was leaving the school in a week anyway—they couldn't do anything to me. I was afraid of what would happen to you if anyone found out—I mean if they really knew it as a fact and not just as a rumor."

That was the reason. Of course. He had wondered about that. "…So you pushed me off a cliff."

"I knew that you'd keep calling, that you wouldn't give up. I knew that you loved me. I had to cut you off so that you could still walk down the halls—you still had three years to go in that place."

Just like Brian had done to Mikey, just like he'd done to Justin. The Kinney Cliff, he was famous for it, Keith was the one who taught him how. He breathed out a humorless laugh. "You loved me enough to hurt me."

"I loved you enough to do what was best for you." Their steaks were there, the untouched salads removed; more beer replaced the empty glasses.

"That was fifteen years ago. Why did you show up now?"

"…I, I don't think a week has gone by since then when you haven't crossed my mind. I kept up with you. I stayed in touch with Wilkins and would ask how you were doing. I found out about the scholarship and then followed your career at Penn. I knew your major and figured that it was just a matter of time before you appeared in the business sections of the local papers. I was right." He took another long drink of the beer. "Then I found out about that bashing a year or so ago with that kid. Your name was attached to the articles so it was easy to keep track of you. Is he OK now?"

"Justin? Yes, he's made almost a full recovery."

"Is he still your lover?"

Brian was cutting his meat, putting the sour cream on his baked potato. He wasn't interested in where this seemed to be going. "You're wearing a wedding ring."

"Cathy and I are separated. We'll be divorced in another six months. The papers are already filed."

"Why did you marry a woman if you knew you were gay?" In fact it was a common enough situation. A lot of men did it and a lot of them ended up divorced, he just wanted to know what Keith would say.

"She was as far from you as I could get."

Right. Whatever. "So in exchange for us hooking up again, you throw your account to my company?"

Keith ate a piece of his filet, stalling for time. "I tossed the account to you after I did a butt load of research on you and Vanguard. I know your firm's one of the best on the East Coat and I know that you're the main reason."

"Your company is in California."

Keith just shrugged. "Phones, faxes, e-mails, overnight delivery—it doesn't matter."

"Keith…"

"The thing is—the thing is that I'm still in love with you and that's why Cathy and I are splitting up. She doesn't know about you per se, she just knows that there's someone else and there always has been."

Brian just stared at him in disbelief. Christ on a bike. "Fifteen years and you never picked up the fucking phone? You couldn't manage a Goddamned Christmas card? Now you walk into my office and I'm supposed to—fuck—what? Fall on my knees or throw myself at you? Maybe we could ride off into the sunset together." He was incredulous. Infuckingcredible.

"I made a mistake. I knew that as soon as I saw your face that summer—you didn't know that I'd go over to your street and watch you through your bedroom window. You looked so heartbroken."

"You think the cliff was a bad idea?" That was an interesting idea. Both times Brian had done it; the people he'd pushed had ended up coming back to him after all.

"The cliff—maybe, I don't know. I had to make everyone believe that you were nothing to me and that we weren't lovers. I should have called you from California, though—I should have explained."

"Why didn't you?" God, it would have made such a fucking difference.

"I was scared and I was a kid. I didn't know what to say to you."

"I waited for almost three years. Every time the phone rang I wanted it to be you. When I left for college, I stopped thinking it would happen."

Keith took a deep breath. "Bri, I can wait. I can take time with this—Look at you—you've become as amazing as I knew you would. There's no hurry. We can take it slow; get to know each other again. Take as much time as you need."

Brian had heard enough. OK, Keith might even still really be in love with him, or at least with his image of him, but shit… "I'm with someone."

Keith just stopped. "…It's serious?"

"Yes."

"Are you in love with him?"

The sixty-four dollar question. OK, just jump in the deep end, what the fuck. "Yes." God, it wasn't that hard to say, after all.

"Is it that kid? The one who got hurt?"

"His name is Justin."

Shit. Keith had been afraid that something like this might happen. When he'd begun reading about the incident he could picture Brian defending the kid in that garage, just like he had tried to defend him against Jamie's accusations all those years ago. That was Brian—if he loved you he'd do anything to make it right for you.

Well, so would he. The kid was young and Brian might even be in love with him now, but the kid would grow up and change—it was inevitable. It had to happen. He'd keep Multitech's account at Vanguard or wherever Brian moved to and he'd keep track of how things were going. In a year or two or five, he'd be waiting. He'd make it up to Brian; make it up to him for hurting him.

Brian had loved him once; he could make him love him again.

Half an hour later the two men went their separate ways. Brian had the signed preliminary contracts in his briefcase and Keith had hope.

On the drive back to Tremont Brian thought, for about the thousandth time, about how Keith had changed his life.

He had introduced him to the cliff, he had hurt him and he had been both the first person he'd loved and his first lover.

He had become a good man, or so it seemed, if not a happy one and Brian truly wished that he were happy. He was probably a good man and he deserved happiness as far as Brian knew. He seemed to be trying to get his life on the track it should have been on all along, but Brian didn't really want to ride with him anymore.

Maybe if he had called from California things would have turned out differently—fuck, of course they would have. He'd be out in LA at some firm out there and coming home to Keith every night instead of Justin.

God he had loved him.

It occurred to Brian, as he walked up the four flights of stairs to the loft that the two men he'd fallen in love with were both needy while seeming to be the oppisite—Justin because of his age and inexperience, Keith because he was incomplete without someone else—either his wife or Brian to make him whole and he wondered why he needed to take care of people and if he'd ever want someone to take care of him for a change.

Maybe. It might make a nice change.

Who would he rather did the job? Who would he hire to take that assignment on, the 'taking care of Brian' assignment?

Mikey would make him insane. Justin would want candle lit dinners between rounds of fucking and his painting and Keith would let him be himself even if he had to push him off a cliff to do it.

He and Keith would be working together, that was one of the clauses in the contract, he had to head the account, and he was the contact person.

He slid the door open, saw Justin's face come up from the computer monitor he'd been working on. He lit up with the sunshine smile.

Shit.

This could get complicated.

The End

8/18/03

74


End file.
